The Dragon in the North
by Cpt. Achilles-117
Summary: The legendary Dragonborn, Talion Blackfang faces a deadly new threat. He won at a terrible cost & arrived at death' door. He awakes in a new land filled with political intrigue & war. Here, he must forge new allies & an identity. He shall have to be vigilant with enemies at every step. Will he be able to find this Azor Ahai & stop the army of undead? Follow House Blackfangs Journey
1. Chapter 1

**Hello**

 **I thought I might try my hand at a Game of Thrones/Skyrim crossover. I am a huge fan of both Game of Thrones being caught up with the latest ep(wanted to get it down before the last and final season) and reading most of the books a while back reading up to Feast of Crows. I am also a big fan of Skyrim completing the main quest line as well as the DLC although I will be far less versed in the huge lore that Is Skyrim. (Research will try to be down but help will be needed)**

 **The story will take place in the Game of Thrones setting instead of the ASOIAF instead. Although there will be some overlapping themes. (Dany has purple eyes, Stoneheart, Barristian survives etc) now in terms of character, I put this off to the side as I didn't know how to make it as enjoyable for you guys as I thought I would. As I have seen Dragonborn been overpowered and placed in the story without really changing it. I don't want that to happen in my story. I'm going to try and write my Nord Dragonborn as one that I played in the game with some personality as well. One that is very powerful as a warrior, wise, honorable and strong leader. A realistic Nord that has seen the harsh realities if the world and fights for the Warriors code he believes in. He will be well versed in Combat, both sword as well as archery, spells not as frequent but still learned, (I never ever used ones like Illusion or such so spells he will know of that nature are basic, clairvoyance, invisibility,) spells he will be adept in are Destruction, Restoration, And Conjuration, and Shouts Pretty much maxed. He isn't going to Spam spells as I have known many players to use. Instead, he will rely more on his physical power and training as a soldier/warrior. don't want Him to be overpowered.**

 **TBH he's a God on the field of combat. writing any challenge or obstacles would be hard with him. So I am going to limit some of the spells to make it a bit more realistic in both worlds. So let me know if there is anything I could change to make him more realistic. He's already pretty much unmatched in skills. Being a huge giant muscled Nord wearing Daedric Armor breathing fire from his mouth and can summon Dremora Lord wearing Daedric armor to fight with him. Even fighting fair He's basically a walking tank of death. Which doesn't sound like an interesting read. So let me know what you think. He is also going to be a prominent figure in the Game of Thrones. So I hope you enjoy. Please leave reviews and suggestions on how I can be better. Spelling and Grammar reviews I assume will come naturally. But ones to help the story. Keep in mind I am writing this to have fun but also to learn and improve my own writing. So go easy on me :D. Thank You all and remember Winter Is Coming.**

 _ **"Life is an eternal struggle, and he who does not fight tooth and nail until the last breath forfeits his place in nature's eternal struggle for supremacy, and in doing so damns himself to at best eternal servitude or mediocrity. Shaming his ancestors and their struggles in the process."**_

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

" **A New World"**

 **22 of Hearthfire 4E 205 Lakeview Manor, Skyrim, Tamriel**

In the great rich world of Nirn lay countless lands and waters rich of ancient history and lore. Lands home to many sentient races and species each living in the strange world.

To, more importantly, lay the continent of Tamriel that is split of into 9 provinces. The first province being The Black Marsh located in the Southeastern area. A large swamp-like region rich with lush and tropical like climate home too the scaly reptilian race; the Argonians.

The land of Elsweyr a warm land of the southern coast of Tamriel home to the vibrant blue waters and the Jungles of Tenmar and the famed Feline Khajiit.

To southwestern coastal plains lies the dense forest region is hidden with green seas and ancient cities protected by the rich vegetation of Valenwood home of the Bosmer.

To the southwest consist of the fourteen islands of Summerset Isles and later renamed Alinor after Thalmor seized it in 4E 22 and is now a large base for the Aldmeri Dominion and home to the Altmer.

Next, is High Rock located in the far Northwest region, a large mountainous and rocky region split off into multiple city-states and kingdoms. High Rock is home to the Bretons pale-skinned human rich in magic and abstract thinking. It is also home to Orsimer or Orcs fearless green-skinned beast with large tusk. Orcs are split off into many different clans that occupy a variety of different areas like Dragontail Mountains but are famous for the Orsinium City.

in the middle lay the capital of all human races and one of the wealthiest and most powerful nation the Province of Cyrodiil or Imperial Province home to Imperials. a powerful regimental militaristic human race and home to the Capital City of Cyrodiil.

to the right lay the province of Morrowind or Dunmereth home to the ash-skinned Dunmer or Dark Elves. The eastern lands have been subject to great volcanic activity, and Morrowind shows the signs of this clearly. Cloud movement shows that Morrowind predominantly has upper-level southerly winds, resulting in a mild, though often hot, climate. Morrowind is free from snow and ice (besides Solstheim), unlike other parts of Tamriel at the same latitude.

to the left of Morrowind lay the hot desert lands of Hammerfell also known as Volenfall. It is home to the dark-skinned human race called Redgaurd known for being as quick with their wit as they are with their curved swords. Hammerfell is a massive region, covered by vast mountain ranges, grasslands, and deserts. The desolate Alik'r Desert is one of Hammerfell's most well-known regions, taking up a large fraction of the province.

But last but not least and most importantly stood the harsh and cold mountainous region known as the Old Kingdom or Skyrim as it's more called and home to the cold and hardy strong race of humans called Nords who are as strong and resilient as their cold blizzarding environments. In Province of Skyrim was the Hold Falmarch and in this hold was the quiet and mostly peaceful homestead of Lakeview Manor. A large house fitted with a decked out armory, on the east side, a large bedroom located on the south side built overlooking the beautiful Lake Ilinalta to the north and populated with an overwhelming number of trees and rocks.

The birds outside Lakeview Manor chirped peacefully and the wildlife of deer, foxes, and moose roamed freely.

Inside this home on the second floor to the very north lay a small room with a fully furnished wardrobe, two small display cases and a large double bed topped with animal furs. laying on this bed was a large figure currently having a rather harsh vision/nightmare. The figure was grabbing the bed sheets hard and twisting and turning.

This figure was known as Talion Blackfang to his friends and allies but to most, he was known as the hero of Skyrim, The Dovahkiin or Dragonborn as it was most commonly known. Gifted by Akatosh himself The legendary tale of a hero of great strength and resilience, with the body of a mortal being and the literal soul of a dragon who was known as the only being that could slay a dragon and kill it permanently by consuming its soul. The Dragonborn was revealed to the world to slay the great black dragon of death Alduin, or The World Eater the firstborn of the God Akatosh itself. A task the Dragonborn accomplished with great skill amongst other feats worthy of the gods themselves.

However, he was not always known as the brave, honorable, selfless legendary warrior of Skyrim nor was he the man he was today.

In fact, Talion had a rather harsh childhood even in the lands of Tamriel. He was born in Skyrim and sired by two Nords. However, Talion was brought on the doorsteps of Snowshire Orphanage located in Windhelm when he was barely a year old by a mysterious cloaked figure. He never found out who his Nordic parents were or why they gave him up. This left a rough growing up filled with loneliness. One day when he was around 7 playing in the streets he was discovered by a middle-aged man and woman. Who was shopping around the market. It was quite a meeting young Talion had tried to steal a purse of gold from his pocket. Instead of ripping the young kid a new one. The man felt pity and decided to learn his story. After finding out he was an orphan he had a discussion with his wife and they decided to adopt him. Talion overjoyed returned to the orphanage to pack up with his new parents.

After being adopted he was then eventually moved to the province of Cyrodiil the jungle land and considered the capital of Tamriel. He spends the next 7 years living in the Capital; The Imperial City.

He also learned who his parents were. His Father Joseph Blackfang. A large muscled Imperial in his late forties with streaks of gray hair and small wrinkles around his face, detailing a hard life. He was however still built like an Ox with long black hair and onyx shaded eyes with a scar in the shape of an ax going down his right cheek.

And his mother Arwen Lorran a young beautiful Breton in her late thirties, with a medium height and a slender frame with pale skin and wavy hazelnut shoulder length hair and brown eyes filled with intelligence and warmth. She had a large tattoo on her shoulder of a yellow sun in the back and a picture of a green leaf with pointed sides, the symbol of the medical corps during the Great War the first bloody conflict of the Aldmeri Dominion and The Third Empire during the Fourth Era.

That is how she met her husband Joseph a great veteran and commander of the Imperial Army who earned his skill and nickname the Blackfang after the sacking of the Imperial City and Titus ll gathered a large force to retake the city. The bloody Battle of Red Ring when a large Aldmeri force outnumbered Joseph's cohort 10-1. Commander Joseph created a large diversion with a small detachment of imperial footmen and battle mages while his larger force came up behind and attached their blind spot. Over 13,000 were killed that day versus his loss of only 138. During the battle, he was injured from a stab wound to the gut. He was nursed back to health by Arwen.

Upon making recovery he retired from the military and married her. He then moved back to the city where he became a legendary smith as his new job, capable of smithing the finest armors in Tamriel a feat that very few could claim.

During many of his restless nights Talion snuggled up into his mother's arms and she told him great stories of the many battles his father had fought in. How he fought with the heart of a lion, the strength and vigor of a hundred men. This would spark his will and eventual footsteps into his father's path as a warrior. His Father a war-torn veteran never wanted his son to see the realities of war and violence. To live a normal life and instead took up to teach the young boy the valuable art of smithing.

Both being an excellent teacher and smith Talion quickly learned the honorable trait of smithing, instilling an early sense of discipline and hard work into the boy. He also learned how to read and write, as well as important history and healing arts during the late nights after practicing with his father. All task his mother thought would help the boy succeed in life. Talion being an excellent learner quickly became an adequate smith and in the literary arts. When he became 12 he eventually learned how to work in the store and forge selling weapons and ores to many traveling and residing customers.

At 13 when crime became severe in the Imperial City and corruption became as common as breathing. Talion father made the decision to teach his son how to defend himself with a sword. Although being a tall boy for his age, even as a Nord and already gaining muscle on his frame from all the smithing despite not hitting his growth spurt yet. Talion was no match for a full grown adult, at least not without help.

While being a natural smith and a knack for battle intelligence his skill with a weapon was…

He had a very wobbly stance, was too hot-headed, and his movements were sloppy. After months of swordplay and countless cuts and falls, he managed to be considered a novice. Talion feeling frustrated with himself took to practice swordplay a couple hours a day and eventually outskill his father in swordsmanship

A task he never accomplished. It was shortly a few months after an event that shattered him, the murder of his parents. They were walking home one night when 5 muggers came out the shadows and attacked them. It happened like a blur, they bolted towards Arwen and slit her throat, before turning their attention towards Joseph. While he was unarmed he managed to disarm 2 of them and kill the other 2 but was stabbed from behind. Left in a puddle of his own blood on a cold winter's night. Without anyone to help. Dying like a common dog.

Talion hearing the news was shattered how could his father such a famous warrior die like some vagrant on the side of the road. Now orphaned and alone. He took up the mantle as a soldier against his father's wishes.

Although he did not join the Imperial army. In fact, he was highly against the empire and believed them to be too oppressive. When word reached Cyrodiil of the large bandit war that was going on in Morrowind And that they needed freelancer soldiers to help fight against it. Talon signed himself up for service.

He spent the next 4 years in the freelancer military group working as a smith before moving up the ranks and joining an elite special reconnaissance unit; The Desert Falcons where he worked his way up as a captain. It was one day on a mission near one of the strongholds his squad was captured and brutally killed by a small Decanus or 10 man party of soldiers who ambushed them.

Being the sole survivor he was taken to the Imperial camp as a prisoner and learned that the Empire had now taken a stance despite years ago the empire abandoning all continents to self-rule, except for its own. Now a prisoner he had few options of escape and the fact that he had no rescue options he didn't want to rot inside an Imperial prison. Learning that their smith was killed he convinced the small detachment of his invaluable skills as a smith and made them armor. Although harboring a grudge for the death of his team, he eventually worked his way up the ranks befriending them and donning the Imperial tattoo as an Optio or lieutenant and second command of a Centurion under an auxiliary unit.

He spent the remaining 3 years of military service fighting in the Bandit Wars and building up his skill as a warrior and soldier before resigning after losing his close Imperial friend Micah to an Orc Bandit. Now a veteran soldier he decided to return to his original home, Skyrim as he could not bring himself to visit Cyrodiil.

Upon entering the borders between Skyrim and Cyrodiil he saw a group of men in need of help near Darkwater Crossing and upon reaching them he was arrested by a band of Imperial soldiers as well as the group of men. Trying to argue with them resulted in them knocking him out and throwing him in the wagon where they took him to a small town called Helgen where his story started.

Waking up he then learned that his new companions were Ralof, a blond Nord fighting to liberate Skyrim from its Imperial influence under a small group called the Stormcloaks. Led by an infamous man named Ulfric Stormcloak, a strong warrior and leader who used his Thu'um or Voice to murder the High King and take the throne.

Upon reaching Helgen they were immediately brought to the front of the village and called one at a time to the chopping block. When it was Talion turn, he stood firm and walked his way up to the front before telling the man holding the list his full name, rank and serial number as an Imperial Lieutenant. The man was shocked and told the Imperial Captain that it was a valid number. Talion sighing in relief expected them to hand him back his belongings and send him off his merry way. To his shock and horror, the Captain said to forget the list and a few seconds of spitting blood from her mouth from a well-placed fist, courtesy of Talions wrath of betrayal.

Being subdued he was forced to walk to the chopping block where he witnessed the awkward exchange of a female priest and red-haired Stormcloak soldier, it was almost comical how the priest shut her mouth upon being told to 'shut up and get it over with' by the red hair. His wish was granted and a few minutes later his head rolled off the chopping block and into a basket.

Talion's lucked seemed to again run out as the Captain holding her Jaw despite wearing an Imperial Helmet gave Talion a smug look before ordering him to the block. A small attempt of fighting the firm grasp holding him he took towards the block and was forced down unto the block awaiting his execution.

It seemed as though the Gods themselves opened the heavens and sent a giant pile of shit his way as just when the executioner's axe was about to swing down a creature not seen in centuries flew from behind the mountains charging towards them. An enormous dragon as black as the night with giant spikes protruding from his body landed on top of the tower before weirdly shouting at the sky unleashing a storm of rocks that rained down on them destroying everything and everyone. Those that survived were quickly burned alive by its dragon fire.

Narrowly escaping both thanks to his new friend Ralof he managed to make it to the keep where he learned of the obvious dragon's appearance and who survived. Mustering up the dwindling courage they escaped to the top of the tower before running through the chaos and confusion towards a small keep, where they encountered Imperial soldiers and spiders before escaping Helgen.

They eventually made it to a small town called Riverwood where they licked their wounds. Ralof offered for Talion to join the Stormcloaks after seeing first hand the injustice today but he declined to say he didn't want to be apart of another war and instead opted out to Whiterun to speak to the Jarl Balgruuf about the dragon attack.

After experiencing an interesting greeting with the legendary warrior of adventure and fame; The Companions the famous warriors led by Ysgramor himself, the group every boy wanted to be a part of, including himself. After rescuing one of their newer members Ria from turning into Giants paste he journeyed up the keep and spoke with the Jarl.

After thanking him for his service he was offered some hospitality to regain his strength before he joined the Companions as their newest member where he earned himself a new group of brothers and sisters he called family and living as a normal warrior.

Turns out fate had different plans and soon a dragon came to attack the Western Watchtower near Whiterun. Being the only one to successfully escape a dragon attack he had more experience than anyone in the hold so he along with the Jarls bodyguard a Dark Elf and a handful of guards journeyed to face the winged demon. A bloody battle that resulted in many guards being killed would have been worse if not for a death-defying Talion who accomplished what no mortal has in existence; jumping off a tower onto a dragon's back.

This dragon was Mirmulnir a strong first lieutenant under Alduin during the Dragon Wars and rode it. It was if the Daedric Prince of Madness himself had blessed the young 21 year old Nord. Talion holding on for dear life and on the verge of passing out after losing lots of blood from the battle and scraping his bare skin on the dragons sharp scales. He managed to plunge his iron sword into a weaker part of the dragon's neck killing it and sending him tumbling back down.

He awoke a few moments later to discover a bright yellow and white light surrounding him and the dead dragon's flesh seeming to glow and melt off, leaving a pile of white bones on the dirt. Before passing out due to sheer power he heard one word 'Dragonborn'

A mortal born with the body of a man and the soul of dragon destined to vanquish the evil Alduin.

News that a possible Dragonborn was in Whiterun spread like wildfire overnight and eventually to surrounding villages. Upon waking up he was greeted by the Jarl and Ireleth. After explaining to them what happened he was rewarded with a steel chest plate, a chance to buy property, a

necklace with a large dragon fang courtesy of the spoils of last night, and the title of Thane of Whiterun which came with his own companion, Lydia.

He was also greeted by Aela and Farkas two of the most experienced members of the Companions who had come to check up on their brother who fought and killed the dragon. Although a strong member of the Companions for a while now he still hadn't earned the respect of all its members, particularly Skjor who constantly belittled him when he was within reach.

Talion retold the story of what happened at the Western Watchtower of him jumping on the dragon's back and killing it but more importantly the sudden surge of power and the melting of the dragon's flesh. Farkas seemed to be skeptical at first not being much a believer in mythical beings and gods but Aela knew of the story of the Dragonborn since she was a little girl. She told Talion of the Greybeards and their summoning and that it was vital he spoke to them if he was the Dragonborn.

Talion juggled with the idea of his fate being predestined, did his real parents know? Is that why they abandoned him? Why he always felt he had a connection with Talos? He spent the next 8 months honing his skills as the Dragonborn learning about Paarthurnax, The Blades, the Dragon Wars, and what it meant to be the Dragonborn.

It was a short while before he returned to Whiterun, now a Werewolf of the Circle and the Harbinger after the death of Kodlak and the destruction of the Werewolf hunters; The Silver Hand he needed to finish his quest of destroying Alduin. He trapped the dragon Odahviing in Dragonsreach and made a deal with the dragon to take him to Skull Duffin where he journeyed through the treacherous Nord crypts and entered a portal to Sovngarde; there he made his way towards Halls of Valour the fabled resting spot of spirits of Former Nord heroes.

Talion then gained aid of Felldir The Old, Harkon One-Eye, and Gormlaith Golden-Hilt Former Nord heroes who also battled Alduin many years before sending the great beast forward in time courtesy of an Elder Scroll. Together they cleared the skies with a shout before battling the large beast and finally slew it. Talion then returned to Nirn where they celebrated the defeat of the World Eater.

Shortly after Talion fought in the corruption and treachery of the Thieves Guild after rescuing a friend from the Thalmor and rose to the Ranks before joining the Dark Brotherhood during a much darker time of pain remembering his parents murdered. A year after that he journeyed to Solstheim and fought the First Dragonborn Miraak.

This was three months ago and now the battle-hardened Talion was lost in sleep. In a terrible nightmare that will soon change his life forever.

 **Talion BlackFang POV**

 _I was fast asleep retreating in my mind lost in a dream… no this was no dream it felt like memory a vision that would transpire soon. I heard the faint voice of a female in my dream 'Everything will change young Dragonborn You must be ready for what is to come'_

 _The bright white light changed and I could now see something darker, eerie and hellish. Before me, I saw a sky void of any sunlight just blue and white sky with snow hailing down in a fierce volley with an endless supply. I saw walls of solid blue ice towering over with bloodied snow surrounding like a canyon. Towering over the barren landscape. I saw no trees no buildings just miles of solid ice and snow. The air was so thick and enveloped in evil and bloodlust that it caused my skin to crawl and my hands to shake. With the sheer display of horror, one would believe themselves in the domain of Molag Bal himself._

 _It now felt real as the cold frostbite overtook my body and causing a numbness and stiffness in my body. The blade in my hand felt heavy like someone had drained the energy in my left arm. I could feel the violent winds dash against my face causing my eyes to water and my breathing to be short and exasperated. It was like I was in the middle of a large snowstorm._

 _"They are outnumbering us. There's too many of them!" I heard a faceless man in all black cloak and clothing shout as he was shot with an arrow surprisingly made out of solid ice. I glanced down and saw I was wearing all black clothing similar to the man who died. But I felt it was not my body but someone else._

 _"Commander! Where are the reinforcements?! At this rate, they will plow through us and decimate Winterfell!"_

 _I saw a man in all black carrying a broadsword with a white hilt literally lit on fire and he swung it at an undead cleaving the creature into. "Damn it. I dunno Jaclyn I pray my brother Bran knows what he is doing."_

 _Just then I heard a bloodcurdling scream and turned to watch a fellow wearing a white cloak and brown armor with the Sigil of a yellow stag get torn apart by what seemed to be Draugr. But much skinner and boner and they seemed to be tearing and eating him. I turned and saw the mutilated bodies of men wearing different cloaks littering the icy ground it looked like a bloodbath. dozens more in what seemed to be an all-out war dying left and right like flies._

 _Turning my sight from the horrific scene I gasped when I saw a large dragon big as a small castle with scales bluer than the icy Skyrim waters. However, the dragon seemed off compared to my usual Dragon sightings this was not a prideful and strong-willed dragon but something much more sinister and evil. An undead dragon void of any will, flying overhead breathing blue fire on a group of more warriors dressed in black, the_ Stagmen _and he noticed a group of men dressed in red with a golden lion sigil and men dressed in black with a 3 scarlet headed dragon sigil. All fighting side by side against the seemingly endless hordes of undead._

 _"Lord Mormont! Another group of undead lead by a dozen White Walkers flanking from the cliffside." He shouted barely a voice withal the commotion and chaos._

 _"Run! Ice Spiders!" I heard a red-cloaked man with a scruffy beard shout before being impaled with a spear made of solid ice. I turned to his voice and noticed what seemed to be hundreds of undead skeletons all deformed and broken in many parts followed by dozens of spiders seemingly made of solid ice, big as bears racing at intense speeds attacking and tearing apart men and woman left and right. The few brave enough charged hoping to kill the large formation of ice spiders charging forward all military like. It was a Grim sight._

 _Just then I noticed 2 dragons not colored in ice but rather a red scaled one and a much larger one black as smoke and as big as a small castle flying overhead battling the undead dragon._

 _I heard the voice pound in my head again. 'See what is to_ come _young Dovahkiin. See the bloodshed and hellish horror soon to befall the world. You must stop the ancient evil of ice and death. You must unite the kingdoms before it is too late.'_

 _I glanced upon the cliffside and saw a creature of solid ice or some of him as it was hard to make out his features in the blizzard storm. One thing I could see was the pale blue eyes of pure unadulterated death and pure killing intent. the power radiating off him was intense and I guessed he was the leader._

 _Just then I heard a loud screech and scatter noise and turned my face to see the fangs of a large ice spider jumping and about to sink into me._

 _I closed my eyes and prepared to face the painful death only to open it again to a sign of a raven with three eyes staring at me, almost calculating my very soul before flying away. The mysterious voice spoke again. 'You will journey to a foreign land. A place with little to no magic and a land on the brink of war. It will not be easy young BlackFang but you must forge alliances with allies if you are to fight the real threat. But head my warning. This land is traversed in decadence and political intrigue. Not only will there be enemies on the battlefield but spies and traitors of dangerous numbers plotting to increase their power. It will be up to you to know who is_ friend _and who is_ foe _."_

 _It cut to the sound of music blasting and a feast seemingly to celebrate a wedding. An almost beautiful sight that in a flash changed to men and woman being shot with arrows and a very pretty pregnant woman with black hair being stabbed through the womb repeatedly in a violent scene._

 _It then changed to a sight of a large wolf running after a stick and wrestling with it playfully. The voice spoke again in a more eerie voice this time._

 _"An ancient evil stirs once forgotten in the pages of history and time. A tale once feared and revered now told at bedtime. Unbeknownst to the kingdom of men and woman each fighting for control of the Iron Throne before thy wintertime. An evil that threatens to swallow them all up. Journeying on a new path the fierce warrior born of man and dragon hardened by the adversity of war must take up arms and ally with the wolf against the lion's mighty roar. A beautiful queen of white hair, the last of her dragon bloodline; The Mother Of Dragons on the outskirts beyond the Narrow Sea is to be trained to rule and be adept in the art of warfare if any chance to escape this hellish nightmare. Dragonborn Head my call. You must protect the Lightbringer, the Dawnbreaker, the wolf who wields the flame in hand fighting to protect his homeland. Azor Ahai he will be called and the young crow not yet ready to spread the wings of his important destiny. A damaged young wolf with a destroyed homeland journeying behind enemy lines training and learning to be the man he was born to be if Peace was to be found successfully. Followed by him is a wise young crow_ driven _to be courageous and respected, a wise man with endless knowledge in mind and soul lacks thy strength thy hands of cravening. A boy wanting to be a knight must heed the call of destiny as The Three-Eyed Raven be the spark of hope and light. To endeavor the many trials and tribulations of a Bloodraven and Coldhands he mustn't spite. For if one is to survive this hellish future allies must be needed in the fight."_

 _'That was very eerie and omniscient' I thought. I was then dragged into a whirlpool-like effect with a series of images flashing before my eyes of wolves, the Three-Eyed Raven, children climbing in a forest, the horns of war, 3 headed dragon ridden by a white-haired female and then it stopped. I then heard the screams of children. And the deafening cry of a monster. 'I am sorry young Dovahkiin. Everything is about to change. Everything is about to change.' I heard the roar that shook the ground violently and turned to sss the head of a red and yellow beast the size of a small house with great horns and even greater muscles the size of a man's body. The great beast breathed fire and spikes seemed to be protruding from all sides. He carried a large double-edged flaming sword seeming made of molten hot rock and metal. The beast roared before swinging the sword ait at me._

My eyes raised up and I almost jumped out of the double bed gasping for breath. My body shaking coldly. Taking a few short breaths I tried to calm myself. I noticed it was still the break of dawn and the sun had just started to come up. I looked down and saw my pillows were thrown a few feet from in front of me and that my bedsheets were drenched in sweat. Running my hand through my hair noticed even more on my head and body.

 _'Was this just a regular shit driven dream? Or was I being told of another prophecy?'_

Truth be told he didn't want to be part of another one. He was a true Nord and like any Nord craved fighting in the company of companions and dying an honorable death. But ones at his own expense he was tired of being a Daedric or a gods puppet and being pulled. It has been 3 months since the death of Miraak and needless to say he soaked up the peace and quiet like a sponge, knowing that it wouldn't last.

 _'Damm another nightmare then. And I even asked nicely to have a good dream. Considering what today is hopefully it will be better.'_ Optimism was never my strong point but after seeing pretty much every side of a person it is hard to be positive all the time.

Sighing I threw off the blankets before standing up and popping the stiffness in my muscles. Hearing the satisfying crack I walked to the front of the room and stared in the mirror. The tired sapphire blue eyes of a Nordic warrior who seen more death and destruction in a decade than most men see in their entire lifetimes reflected back at him.

Noticing the thick dark brown beard that had grown against my face and covered my lower half up to my nose. With my heightened senses, the stench of sweat poured into my nostrils. I walked over to the bed before grabbing a pair of brown breeches and putting them on before grabbing a pair of leather hiking boots and placing them on my feet. The leather stuck to my drenched in sweat feet like glue and felt irritating but I ignored it.

Grabbing one of the many bows I usually kept hanging up on a weapons rack placed on the wall. A fine crafted Daedric Bow of paralysis that was perfect for hunting. I also grabbed a quiver of Daedric arrows eloquent ebony arrows with crimson tip and placed them on my naked back before grabbing a small skinning knife and wrapping the sheath horizontally across the back of my waist.

Knowing that the other companions downstairs would hear ms even with my mastery of being both a Dark Brotherhood leader and the Guildmaster of the infamous thieves guild. I was still a man after all. I decided to exit the door a few feet from my bed to go outside.

opened the door a few feet to the right of my bed and closed it. Turning back around I stood on the large balcony looking to the north of the manor. I placed my hands on the railing and hopped over it. A loud thud as I hit the dirt ground. I could feel the cold air and the dampened frost envelope me and I could feel my anxiety wash away.

Standing outside and next to Lakeview Manor I could see the house I so finely crafted and built with my own two hands and the large wooden wall I placed around the back and sides to keep unwanted predators. The small cliffside with iron ore veins decorating it and the workbench still placed beside it. I could see the garden to the east side where I grew vegetables. To the west were a small chicken pen and an ox pen beside the house. Each built by my hands.

Taking a deep breath and placing the bow on my back I bolted down the dirt path swiftly letting the cold wind hit my half-naked body. A normal usually chilly feeling to most Argonians, Bretons, Elves was a welcoming feeling to the Nord who naturally had strong resistance to cold climates.

Letting my blood pump and my muscles work I ran as fast as I could getting a morning exercise. Bolting past the small river and Pinewatch shack that had been filled with Skeevers now cleared out. Spring up north and making a circular trek around the large hill and rock around the house. Truth be told I did this most mornings to clear my head and to prepare for the day but I knew how much my visiting guest loved cooked Venison and eggs in the morning so I thought I'd treat her.

After running for a good hour I finally made my way back to the rear of the house near the stone tablet used by a now-deceased novice conjurer. On my back, I carried a large deer which I hunted moments before. The run would normally be fatiguing exercise for most considering the speeds I was running at while also carrying a large deer.

on my back. It barely affected me after the long many years of training my body gaining immense stamina and strength. I placed the deer next to the skinning table before walking down to the river.

Standing at the very edge near a couple of trees which would provide some privacy I grabbed the wooden bowl filled with water and grabbing a razor I brought the straight blade up to my face and using the reflection of the river as a mirror I began to cut the hair off below the lip leaving a naked hole and I trimmed the side of my beard but still keeping the same size only removing the thick scruffy beard I had. I also trimmed my mustache slightly.

With the beard more clean and orderly looking I grabbed the small knife also next to his bowl and began to cut the long hair on my head. Although a full Nord by birth which meant long thick natural blonde or brown hair I preferred having a shortcut.

Knowing that having long hair while wearing my heavy armor meant my head got sweater faster and the thickness was better. Removing large amounts of hair and watching it flow down the river I inspected myself: a neatly trimmed (by his standard) beard and his long chin length hair now cut off leaving short clean down the side hair and rear. With a longer bit on the front which he usually likes to spike up with a gel-like recipe from Adrianna's Cauldron.

He noticed the long scar going straight down from his eyebrow down his right eye and stopping at the level of the point of his nose. A small claw mark on his cheek. Although he himself never considered himself attractive. It was one area I was never very good at and that was fashion and class. Although I was no vagrant who showed up to events or meetings looking messy hair in silk robes I spend the majority of my time fighting on a quest and being in the company of fighters. As such, I had a crooked nose broken too many times to count and a thick brow. But to me, my facial features were what I had. I never really paid much attention to. To me, they were unchangeable and rather than let it dictate who I was and worrying if I was attractive to the public eye. I always believed I cared more about a person's actions and what was inside rather than on the outside. But that belief also might explain why I was still single.

I chuckled. Although I had my fair share of woman over the years none ever really peaked my eyes until I met the Companions. Younger me never cared much being a grunt in the military meant I got paid, got food in my belly and if lucky a woman to warm my bedside. When I wasn't our being a soldier I spend my days being lazy and chasing up the skirts of fellow female soldiers. A real womanizing ass I was.

 **Narrator POV**

Unknown to him he was considered a fine specimen to a variety of females in Skyrim and had the body that most maidens dreamed off even with the vast amount of scars that littered his body. A giant that towered over most men even Orcs and even among a Nords standard. With a perfect blend of upper torso and broad shoulders while still having enough trained strength in his legs to be lightning fast and quick in a fight. A rare combination crafted from spending most of his life hammering on an anvil and a manhood spend crushing and slashing foes with swords or axes. Combined with military experience and battle prowess he had built a male physique worthy of the gods themselves.

Even under the thick beard, his jawline was sharp enough to cut stone, no odd uneven cheekbones or thick lips. Just the right kind to make him attractive but not to look like a pretty boy.

Done inspecting his face he removes the sweaty pants and shoes that stuck to his muscles body and placed them on the rocks. He also reached around his neck and pulled off the simple necklace with the fang of Alduin and placed it on the rocks before diving in the cold water. Allowing the sweat grime and dirt to wash away his naked body. He stood still waiting for the water to be clear before he inspected the many scars that littered his body.

A large diagonal gash below his right pectoral on his rib cage earned from his fight during the Bandit Wars. A large knife wound going down his inner left forearm earned from his Dark Brotherhood days. A large bite from a sabertooth on his midsection to the right. A large arrow scar on his shoulder he earned getting shot with a poisoned arrow. He also had a large laceration on the back of his shoulder from being hit with a Silver Hand member and also on his back was multiple whip marks he earned while being disciplined in the Imperial Legion. And his newest scar above his left pectoral; a large spider web-like burn mark he had earned from a firebolt while fighting with the Dragonborn Miraak.

He also had multiple gashes across his legs and arms and on the inside of his thighs, he still had the faint marks of dragon scales that had brushed and tore the skin of his legs when he rode and fought his first dragon at the Whiterun Hightower.

He began to scrub hard with a bar of soap, letting the bar of soap rub against his body and washing away the dirt and grime allowing the various tattoos on his body to be visible.

Next to his spider web-crack like burn he had the black pointed star of Azura the Daedric Princess of Dusk and Dawn and a black raven perched on the Star tributing also to Nocturnal; Daedric Princess of Luck & Mystery.. Above his left pectoral a large tattoo Of a black and gold grinning head of wolf staring forward. Recognizing his patronage and value on Hircine Daedric Prince of the Hunt. He also had a large helmet of an Imperial Centurion on his bicep he earned after being promoted in the Imperial Legion. Donning to the far right on his rib cage he had the large tattoo of a silver greatsword and winged helmet after his very first idol and hero; Talos the man God of War who has always guided and watched over him through his crazy lifetime. Finally on his back was a large head black and silver head of a dragon breathing fire a to the Dragon God Akotosh and his responsibility to protect the world as the Dragonborn.

A few moments later he climbed out of the river and placed a new pair of brown pants and his shoes before walking back to the front entrance of the house carrying the deer on his shirtless back.

Walking through the main entrance he smelt the sweet scent of cooking over the fire pit and the smell of vegetables being cooked. Walking through doors into the main hall. Inside was two large staircases leading towards the upstairs floor and large wooden table spanning the middle of the room with a large yellow cloth covering over it. To the north lay a large fireplace and two wooden doors slightly behind it on either side. The walls were littered with trophies of many beasts the Dragonborn has slain and weapons of all kinds decorating the sides. Above the fireplace was a large white and golden banner of a Dragon seen visible against the stone fireplace.

he was greeted by the whine and light bark of a black and white husky wearing leather armor who strode with excitement to its owner before licking his hand. Talion reaches out with one hand and ruffled the wolf-like dogs long fur and petted him.

"Hey, Bran. Who's a good boy. Yes, you." The husky barked excitedly. Bran was one of the two Vampire Hunter dogs he was given as a gift by Isran after defeating Harkon. Talion has worked with both dogs and as such grew the close partnership with both. After the Vampire War, he adopted both and took them home where they became loved by two other members of the household. He glanced up and saw Sceolang was fast asleep under the main dining table next to a female figure clad in steel armor currently leaned back on a wooden chair surprisingly reading a book: The Aetherium Wars.

The figure was a tall Nord easily almost 6 feet at first glance with weathered skin and strong jawline. She was packing plenty of lean muscle onto her female frame but also enough curves to give her an endowed body. She had long dark hair flowing freely over her shoulder and a pink flower behind her ear. Without taking an eye of the book the female figure spoke. "My… You're up earlier than usual, my 'Thane'. Replying in a slightly teasing tone.

Talion rolled his eyes. "Couldn't sleep. And I'd usually say the same to you as well. It's only 7 in the morning. Why are you up so early Lydia?"

Lydia still reading spoke in a distracted voice. "Mmm. Enticed by my new book you see? and besides, you woke me up this morning with your panting and rumbling upstairs. I assumed you took your morning jog with a little extra noise this time. Were you excited or something?"

Talion saw a worker of his Llewellyn the Nightingale. A small bard who offered his services to the Dragonborn nod and greet him before taking the large deer from the Dragonborn back. It

was almost comical to see the bard with his smaller and weaker frame drag the dead deer to the kitchen to be cooked.

Talion stretches before sitting down across from her. "Oh come on I wasn't that loud."

Lydia smirked. "Bout' as loud as a drunk mammoth actually." Her faced changed to worry and concern when she noticed his off demeanor. "My Thane. Having Nightmares again?"

Talion shook his head. "No. Everything is fine." He lied.

She eyed him calculating until he sighed and spoke up. "No. I don't know. They didn't seem like dreams. More like premonitions."

"Premonitions of what?" She inquired.

Talion was about to speak up when he heard the doors behind him flung open and out came the excited cry of two high pitched screams. "Papa! You're here!" Out came a young boy and young girl before they wrapped their arms around Talion and hugged him in affection.

Young Talion smiled and a bellowing laughter echoed through the hall. He hugged both of them. "Course' was eager to see how my children had grown while I was away. Come on let me see you both."

Talion stood up towering over both of them like they were midgets. Talion stood inspecting both of the children he adopted. In truth, Talion didn't ever consider himself a father figure nor did he think he was ready to have kids of his own. With his troubled past as a mercenary and soldier and then the many troubled quests he did for the Thieves Guild and the Dark Brotherhood it was with the help of Aela and Lydia that he had grown softer and more caring. Thus, shortly before he took the path of the Dawnguard and fought Miraak he found and adopted the boy Samuel at Honorhall Orphanage and he found Sofie wondering the cold streets of Windhelm trying to sell flowers and earn money. He took both of them back to Lakeview Manor and tried to be the best father he could. Although they were not born from his own flesh and blood he considered them both his own children. Needless to say, he did it a good job despite not knowing a thing about parenting.

He started at his young boy Samuel. A small Nord of ten years old with messy dark brown hair and blue eyes with a certain youthful burn of being a warrior in them. He had cuts and bruises and dirt on his face detailing the adventurous youthful aura the boy had. Samuel was the embodiment of a true Nord. A strong-willed boy who played and fought outside every day with a wooden sword and shouting he would be a warrior just like his father. He would love to listen to the tales of warriors from history like Ysgramor who led the first 500 men, the Hero of Kvatch who ended the Oblivion Crisis, or the tale of Talos Himself. He always enjoyed the stories about Talion and his adventures the most. Particularly the one about Alduin the World Eater. Samuel stood tall and proud looking his father dead in the eye almost challenging him. Talion chuckled lightly and ruffed Samuels hair much to his annoyance. "My. Such fierceness. You'll be a fine warrior someday. I hope an honorable one at that." He eyed Samuel with a close gaze.

Samuel pounded his chest hard. "Aye father! I will be as strong and Honorable as Ysgramor himself."

Talion smiles warmly before he faced Sofie. Sofie was a little younger than her adopted brother Sam. Only recently turned 10 herself. She had long shoulder length chocolate brown hair and soft green eyes. She stood standing but particularly timid. Sofie has been abused and treated poorly by the owner who had held her a bandit by the name of Bruma camping in Windhelm. After Talion had rescued her from the clutches she still timid despite healing emotionally quite well. Sofie was the opposite of her brother. Where he was brash and loud she was reserved and polite. Where he was fighting outside or being a warrior she played with dolls and read books or helped Lydia. She was a kind and caring person who hopes to be brave and strong and often spoke of taking a path like Aela or Lydia. Talion smiles warmly at her. My you have grown Sofie. Beautiful and kind as ever. Always happy and bright as the sun."

Sofie smiled and hugged Talion once more before the sat beside Lydia hungry and eager to eat breakfast. Sofie sat on the end and then it was Samuel and Lydia. While Talion sat on the other side. Lydia tickled Samuel and he challenged her to an arm wrestle saying he would beat her this time and being reprimanded by Sofie for acting so brash at the dinner table. Talion sat staring at both of them watching their interactions. The words of the mysterious person in his dreams echoed in the crevice of his mind. A feeling of unease he couldn't stop shaking.

Just then he heard the loud yawn of a female figure and turned around to see one of his closest friends and someone he considered his sister standing at the door. Serena current vampire and daughter of the late Harkon. (Using the Seductive Serena instead of the Vanilla one. Like her better) she was currently out of her standard Vampire robes and hood. Allowing her free-flowing black hairy and pale milky skin to be visible. She was wearing brown pants and a loose fit red shirt exposing quite a bit of cleavage combined with the clothing of which accented her hourglass body.

Had she been in the company of other men she certainly would have many individuals staring her down. She lad long ebony hair she led hanging loosely and vibrant glowing orange eyes detailing her vampire bloodline. She sniffed the air like an animal before she smiled. "My Talion my boy. Finally learning the art of sophistication and courting a female. A faint smell of soap and sweat. And your heartbeat is still elevated from running so much. Is someone going out on a date finally!?" She said mockingly before taking a seat next to Talion.

Talion rolled his eyes. Serena could be such a pain in the ass sometimes. She took a bite out of a sweet roll before winking at him. "By Talos Talion. Seems you are going out on a date. Working those muscles I see. My. With arms like those, it's wonderful you haven't found a lady. Maybe it's your nose." She began to move her nose up and down as if In a mocking motion. Samuel and Sofie both laughed at her.

A tick raised above Talion eyebrow. "No, you are mistaken. And I'd appreciate we keep my love life out of the table."

Just then the bard walked in carrying plates of cooked food from the small kitchen next to the armoury.( an added room I know. Always found it dumb you couldn't have a built-in kitchen.) he carried a large plate of cooked beef, vegetables, eggs, bacon and a plate of cooked venison. He also returned carrying another plate of fruits oranges, apples, bananas.

The kid's eyes widened and Serena eyed the cooked venison hungrily. "Wow. Mr. Nightengale, you can really cook. This looks amazing." Said, Sofie, as she grabbed a plate and began to grab food from the table.

Lydia nodded. "I'll say. It's great we finally have an actual cook in here. Had it been Talion he wouldn't have burnt half of it blacker than Nocturnal herself. "

The table erupted in laughter and Talion narrowed his eyes. "I'll have you know. I went undercover as a gourmet chef and cooked a famous dish with perfection." Stating proudly.

Lydia raised her eyebrow. "Oh, the same dish you put a gold coin, Vampire Dust, and a bloody Giants Toe in. Honestly, what were you thinking?"

Talion had a face of mock hurt. "Well I was thinking is spice up the flavor. My cook under me said it was brilliant and would expect nothing less from a gourmet chef."

After a few more laughs they each said a prayer to Talos and their patrons. Talos prayed extra hard to Talos, Kynareth, Mara, and Akotosh asking that they guide him on his journey and to protect his family and to Azura that her vision would reveal more of this nightmare to come.

Talion taking a bite out of some bacon faced Serena. "How'd you sleep. I know how loud Samuel and Sofie can be before bedtime." He turned to let his eyes linger on the two. They both looked down eating faster.

Serena smiles. "Nah I didn't mind. I love sleeping in the same room as those two. They are just so cute. Sofie and I played a great prank on Samuel when he stole Sofie doll. Ain't that right Sam?"

Sam's eyes widened and he remembered how Serena scared him in the dead of night and made him apologize. He could never understand how she was so quiet.

Talion chuckled. "That so? Excellent teamwork I'll say. So are you off today?"

Serena nodded with sadness not wanting to leave the children. "Afraid so, duty calls. Although my father Harkon is gone there is still massive vampire factions trying to build up strength. Dawnguard has tasked me with leading a small group of hunters near Deep Folk Crossing."

Talion nodded understanding. He always told her she had a place to stay but even with Harkon gone. The effects of what her father did to her never truly went away.

Serena began to spoke. "So what were you two talking about beforehand. Heard something about premonitions."

Lydia nodded. "That's right almost forgot. So what was it Talion?"

Talion sighed looking straight. "I honestly don't know it was such a random and convoluted mix of dreams it is like Sheogorath himself send me it. I saw miles and miles of ice. Darkness and this eerie feeling. Some voice kept speaking to me telling me everything was going to change and that I had to journey to Westeros and stop the evil of ice and death."

The kids listened intently and with awe. Serena finishing her third plate of venison which was surprisingly a lot for her slender and fit frame. Like she had a black hole for a stomach. "Westeros? I've never heard of it. Even when I was alive during the second era the name doesn't ring a bell. Sounds like it is in Elsweyr

Lydia shook her head. "Nay. I studied Elsweyr through and through when I was under Jarl Balgruuf's tutelage. I can say with a fact it's not a land of there."

She then turned to face Talion

"Maybe there's something we are missing. What else did this voice say?"

"This is where it gets really confusing. I am supposed to find a man called Azor Ahai who is known as the light bringer, an individual called the Three-Eyed Raven and I must help someone called the Mother of Dragons."

Lydia raised her eyebrow. "Mother of Dragons? That's an odd title. Considering how Dragons aren't exactly born of regular means. I can't say I have ever heard of any of this. It's strange. Anything else." Lydia could see that Talion was hiding something. She had known the many for many years.

Talion shook his head. "No that's it. No point on fretting about it now. I'll have a talk with the Greybeards when I get back." he didn't go into full detail with the kids here and he was uneasy about the other things. The look that pale creature of ice gave him. Like it was Molag Bal himself. And the roar of that fire demon.

Lydia was about to prod further when the main doors opened and in walked a young man of 19 years wearing leather armor and carrying an iron sword strapped to his back. Talion smiles. "My look what the cat dragged in. Haven't seen you in ages Erik. Still swinging at practice dummies?"

Erik The Slayer as his full name was known was A medium built Nord with lean muscle and small brown beard growing against his face. Talion remarked how far the kid came. From the youthful, brash, boyish enthusiast farm boy to the strong fighter he had become known. Talion has trained Erik for many years and was proud. Unlike Talion Erik was a fast learner with the sword.

Erik patted his hand on Lydia's shoulder in a greeting and nodded at the two kids before he bowed his head slightly in respect. "Aye same to you as well old man. And no I have fought bandits for the past while."

A tick formed above Talion eyebrow. _'Old Man? Who this welp think he is? Old man. I'm not even in my thirties.'_

"Mmm.. still can't fight me I see."

Erik wiped the sweat from his brow and grinned. "Afraid not. If I did, I'd go easy on you. Wouldn't want you to break a hip at your age."

Talion chuckled. "Clever as usual. I'd only your words didn't get you in trouble with the guards."

Erik nodded. "Dragonborn are you ready for your journey. We should be off then."

"Aww, are you leaving already?" Samuel whined.

"Afraid so my boy. The legendary hunt is only a week away and we should be off if we want to make it there with the others. Besides." Talion said wrapping his arm around Erik's neck roughly. "This impatient little milk-drinker thinks he's ready to join the Companions. So we gotta see if the welp is ready to join."

Samuels' eyes lit up like a ball of light spell. "Really? You're gonna join. Wow, that's amazing!"

Erik smiled with pride. "Aye. I gotta start somewhere if I am gonna take the position of Harbinger from your father one day."

Talion punches him lightly in the shoulder. "That will be the day. Very well. Thank you for the food, Llewellyn. I'll meet you outside Erik."

Erik nodded before grabbing an apple from the table and walking outside.

Talion stood up before walking upstairs past the large mannequin covered in his Guild Masters armor. He walked to the wardrobe next to his bed and put on a brown undershirt covering his chest. He then also grabbed an Armband of Talos a custom piece of jewelry which would increase stamina in the heat of battle and placed a ring of Vigor on his middle finger and the Nightweaver's Band on his pointer.

He went downstairs into the main hall he turned to the right and opened the door to his armory. Inside stood a large room. Fitted with a workbench, display cases and chest of many sizes. Decorating the walls were weapon racks carrying swords, battle axes, war hammers, axes, and bows. Against the side of the large wall, were 7 mannequins surrounding the rooms. carrying armor of all kinds. In order they were carrying Ebony Armour, Dark Brotherhood Shroud, heavy Dragonbone armour, The custom Striker Armour, the menacing powerful Daedric Armour, the custom Wolf Armour he made using the design of the Companions Wolf Armour and using Ebony ingots he crafted his own with the head of black wolf painted on the pack of his armor. And finally a set of Steel Armour.

Walking around the small table in the middle he approached the mannequin carrying the Striker Armour and took it off the rack. Normally he'd wear his heavy Daedric armor and Dragonbone armor going into a large fight. His next journey would require movement and stealth. Thus the Striker Armour. The striker set took the base design of the Nightingale armor and changed the greyish blue to a dark black with greyish hue to it. The added shoulder pauldrons increased in thickness and length allowing increased defense and thicker padding on the outside of the thighs and front legs. A custom black belt was sown across the chest allowing a few throwing daggers to be placed. The once Nightingale bird insignia weaves into the armor was replaced with a large snarling black and grey wolf in the center front. (It's the Nightingale Remastered Armour by KillerKev if you want a better look)

The Striker Armor still kept the light thin that allowed him increased movement, however, the armor was stronger than Orcish Armor due to the level of flawless smithing on a workbench the armor had increased stamina, frost resistance, he could move muffled and his attacks did increase damage. This was one of the Dragonborns favorite set and most had to admit looking at it. The armor was badass. Most individuals knew of the famous Daedric Set knowing only a Handful have ever crafted the legendary set. Even less have crafted a set of armor out of solid Dragon Bones. He still would take the Daedric Armour as a precaution.

He grabbed the large chest piece and placed it above his undershirt. He then fastened the added armor pauldrons on the side with the heads of dragons sewn into them. Feeling the thin yet strong armor hug against his body nicely he then sat down on a chair and placed his feet into the Striker boots feeling them fit snugly and protect past his calves. he began to fasten the straps against the side. He then grabbed the gauntlets on the table and fit both insides until they were all the way in. Feeling the fingerless gloves were in he fastened the straps on each end. He then tucked his dragon tooth necklace into the armor before he grabbed the light and durable hood. He threw it over his head. It covered his face with a large black like mask leaving not a single shred of skin. The eyes were the most menacing it was like a void of darkness swirling and two glowing holes for pupils.

He removed his hood letting it rest like a half face mask. He made sure the cape was fastened tightly before he moved onto weapons. He reached into the display case next to the set and pulled out two flawlessly crafted Nightingale blades each fully charged able to steal both stamina and health from its victims. Running his fingers up the edge of the blade, feeling the sharpness. Satisfied he fastened them against his waists before he grabbed a large quiver of 80 ebony arrows and placed the quiver on his back. He also grabbed a large ebony dagger with a long single serrated edge and attached to his ankle before grabbing a handful of small Daedric throwing daggers each with the life steal ability and hiding them in small knocks in his armor and in the black belt with created sheathes to hold a handful.

Finally, he grabbed his legendary bow; The Dwarven Black Bow of Fate which he placed on his back.

Fully donned in his armor he grabbed the knapsack against the workbench and began to fill it with things he would need. He started by putting 20 extra lockpicks, an extra set of 30 ebony arrows, he grabbed a handful of leather strips, nightshade, void salts, frost salt, fire salts in one section. He moved all his soul gems together grabbing a couple of filled greater soul gems as well as a couple of grand black soul gems he also grabbed the Azura Star and attached it to his personal body. He grabbed a large number of potions, a couple of minor healing potions, major healing potions and plentiful healing. He grabbed a couple of potions of stamina and magicka. He then grabbed a couple potions of the Warrior and Knight.

Down with the potions he moved onto spare provisions. He grabbed a couple of Daedric, Ebony, and Moonstone ingots, Daedra Heart, Void Salts. He grabbed the Full set of Legendary crafted Daedric Armour, Gauntlets, Boots, Helmet, and He grabbed his two Daedric Swords and a Daedric Dagger. He grabbed extra Daedric/Ebony arrows, potions, extra Nightingale blade (created exactly the same), and finally the legendary axe Wuuthrad( for precaution) He also grabbed the legendary Daedric Artifact the Ebony Chainmail and stored all of his spare equipment in the "Magic Satchel" a spell he learned at the College of Winterhold which allowed an individual to bend space and time and allow them to store a limited amount of items which they could pull out at anytime. He then grabbed two of his favorite books "The Dragonborn" and "The Great War" which he would read on the road.

He then walked over to the grindstone and sharpened his Nightingale blades and his dagger before he walked out the armory and into the small kitchen. There he grabbed some bread, apples, sliced goat cheese, dried beef strips, carrots, sweet rolls, and some Horker meat. He also grabbed 2 bottles of Alto Wine and some Nord Mead.

With all his provisions set he walked outside to greet and hug Samuel, Sofie, Lydia, and Serena. He promised he'd be careful and that he would see them again soon. He glanced back one more time looking at there warm smiles. His eyes widened when he saw the large Fiery demon-like beast from before roar from behind them. He stopped and shook his head staring again he didn't see anything. 'Losing my mind' he thought.

He walked outside to see a bored Erik swinging his sword at the practice dummies. Erik was overjoyed to see the Dragonborn was ready. He whistled. "By the Nine. That is some badass armor there Talion. Wish I could have a fine set like yours."

"Beat me in combat and maybe we will see if you can." Talion grinned as he walked forward stopping beside Erik who got on his large Palomino Horse and stood smiling knowing what was going to come next.

Talion reaches two fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly. At first, nothing happened but then the sound of a horse whining and pounding its hooves loudly before a pool of black smoke and liquid appeared out of thin air. A light thunder boomed and out flashes a strong war-horse blacker than the night itself with crimson red eyes.

This was the Dragonborn fabled horse Shadowmere. A Warhorse or Battle Charger as they were sometimes referred to by their difficult training and aggression trained to charge into battle and fight alongside their owner. Shadowmere was an invaluable steed unmatched in speed and strength who could appear and disappear at any time. Talion places his knapsack on the horse before placing one foot in the reigns and swinging himself over the horse and placing his other foot in the saddle he then grabbed the reins and lightly kicked Shadowmere the horse neighed before bolting forward followed by a slagging Erik.

 **A few Days Later**

 **Whiterun**

The ancient doors to Whiterun opened slowly and in trotted two horses of two different colors with two different riders. Talion moving forward while on Shadowmere nodded at the two guards standing at attention. They nodded back bowing slightly. Most individuals in Whiterun recognizes the onyx black horse as the steed of the Dragonborn himself. He carried on the large rock path gazing at the many wooden houses and stores that littered the pathway.

Continuing his path to the Companions main headquarters with Erik close behind he passed the marketplace and headed up the stairs into the upper district and portion of Whiterun. There he went around the large circular tree in the middle of the path and up the stairs to the mead hall. He got off his horse and Erik did as well.

Stopping and closed his eyes letting himself rely on his sense of smell. he could practically smell the mead from outside and the smell of Eorlund Grey-Manes Skyforge. He returned back to his musings when he heard Erik place his hand on the door. Talion walked forward and stopped when he saw Erik hadn't moved in the door. He motioned his hand forward. "After you." He said

Erik bowed mockingly. "Ladies first."

Talion muttered something about smartass and undisciplined little shit before opening the doors.

Walking in he narrowly dodged a flying tankard and even narrower than that the cold mead inside it before he dropped down. He dodged another leg of rabbit that would have collided with his face. He saw two of the oldest Companion members Athis a stockier and wiry Dunmer with a face smeared in white paint and stone colored body. A brash yet reserved individual quite with the ladies.

He was currently in a brawl with a female Nord by the name of Njada Stonearm. Built like a bull to boot. Short with tons of muscle covering her scar-ridden body. She had dirty and frumpy brown hair. The two were currently in one of their many arguments.

"How dare you. Show some respect you Empire Boot-Licker. Ulfric may have been extreme but his heart was in the right place." Njada growled at Athis

"That's not what I'm Njada. But General Tullius is no fool. He believed he was also doing the right thing. At least General Tullius doesn't murder men in their own homes all I'm saying." Athis said shrugging.

The minute those words left his mouth the Nord female was up in a flash and her hand around the Dunmers throat. She slammed him against the large table. The impact of his head hitting the table sent the plates covered in food floating upwards before momentarily flying back down. "You'll regret saying that."

The Dunmer was quick on his feet and elbowed the Nord in her gut before wrapping both his arms around her neck and vaulted forward sending her face first into the table. A sickening crunch later letting the members of the hall know her nose was yet again broken.

She stumbled backward watching the blood flow from her nose she grunted before sending a powerful right hook towards the Dunmer face. He was not fast enough to see the punch and it collided with his face sending him backward and knocking a tankard of mead Njada vaulted over the table and stood in front of the main doors. Without thinking he grabbed a tankard and threw it at her hoping it would collide with her face. He did not expect the next following events nor the loud bellow of a man's voice momentarily before.

"ENOUGH! Stand DOWN. NOW." Came the words of Talion but it was too late. Although the Dragonborn like any companion enjoyed a good brawl especially one between Athis and Njada. However, with his lack of sleep and long hours on the road, the Dragonborn was not in the mood.

Njada ducked her head and the tankard flew over her head and a loud thud later. Her head turned around in confusion knowing the sound of a tankard against wood would not sound that way. Her eyes widened to comical proportions when she saw the tankard had hit Talion smack in the head and the mead poured over his clean Nightingale armor.

Erik broke down in a fit of laughter. "Hahaha! Oh my, that was great. See Old Man told you. Losing your touch. A younger man should be able to dodge that."

Talion faced Erik with a look that would scare even a Falmer away. "Don't even start Erik." He growled.

The Dragonborn still visibility shaking pointed his finger at Athis. "You have ten seconds to get the hell outta here before I conjure a Dremora Lord and drag you down the streets by your hair."

Athis dropped plate he had in his hands. Even without seeing Talions face Athis knew the Dragonborn was serious about his threat. before he bolted out the doors fearing the Harbingers wrath.

A feminine voice shouted over all the commotion. "Harbinger! you're here? What brings you? We thought you were off with the others?"

Talion whipping the liquid off his armor faced the new voice who spoke. "Good to see you as well Ria. And no still need to pick up one more and drop something off."

The young Imperial woman once the youngest member now a Senior member of The Circle. Her cheeks turned red and she nodded.

"He's here for me." Came a new rough voice full of Nordic richness and strength. The figure stepped forward wearing a full set of ebony armor.

Ria looked between the two then back at Talion. "What? Vilkas is going as well. Who's going to help me hold down the fort? Is it him?" She said pointing towards the figure standing behind the tall Talion.

Talion removed his hood exposing the upper half of his face, his powerful yet tired blue eyes staring straight at Ria.

Erik stood forward about to speak but Talion patted him on the shoulder lightly almost pushing him. "Nope Afraid not. It's true Vilkas is going with. However." He stopped before pushing Erik forward slightly. "Erik here will be joining you as your newest shield-brother."

The other companions who were currently sitting watching the comical exchange, Torvar, Njada, Tilma, the other newer member an orc by the name of Smog The Berzerker.

Vilkas raised his eyebrow. "You sure Harbinger? This welp don't look like much."

Erik's eyes changed that in of annoyance. _'Welp? I've trained under the Dragonborn myself. I'll show him why I'm Talion's protege.'_

Talion noticed this and smiled. "Fret not brother. I've foreseen the training of Erik myself. While he lacks the experience of a real fight he burns with fire and has a good heart. You forget I was not much before I joined as well seem to recall you giving me the title "wet behind the ear welp". But Kodlak gave me a chance and look what happened."

Vilkas scoffed. "Yeah until you were revealed to be the newest Dragonborn after being the first to ride Dragon in the heat of battle. And you had military experience before that."

Talion smirked a twinkle in his eye. "Exactly. Meaning you shouldn't judge a glacier from its top part but rather what is buried underneath. You will discover more depth and power. Besides, I spoke with the other members and most of them agreed."

He turned towards the orc. "Smog."

The orc stood up and place his fist on his chest in respect, a rarity among the war fanatics of Dragontail Mountain. "Yes. Harbinger!"

"Take Erik outside and test his steel. I want you then to take him to Halldir's Cairn. Got word of bandit group residing in those parts."

The orc grabbed the duel Orcish axes and placed them on his waist before nodding. "At once sir."

Talion turned to Erik before placing his hand on the boy's shoulder. "I have taught you everything I know Erik. Now it's time for you to make a name of yourself. Trust in your sword as you trust in your brothers and sisters and it shall not fail you. Stand strong and fight with valor."

Erik nodded before shaking Talion hand. He grabbed his knapsack and his large iron sword and shield before following the orc to the training fields.

Vilkas walked over carrying a knapsack and his ebony greatsword attached to his back. "Ready to go?"

Talion shook his head. "Not yet I have a present for you."

Vilkas raised his eyebrow. "For me? Not even my birthday."

"Thought it might serve you well on the hunt."

Talion raised his hand up and slashed it down like he was opening a portal. A small blue hole opened and the Dragonborn reaches in pulling out a heavy set of black armor. He handed it over to Vilkas. His eyes lit up."No… No way it can't be. This isn't.."

Talion nodded finishing his sentence "Yes one of the legendary Daedric Artifacts the Ebony Chainmail."

"I… I don't know what to say. I am honored you grace me with such a gift-"

Talion rolled his eyes. "Your humbleness is noted. Now place the damn armor on." He said chuckling.

Vilkas removed his ebony gauntlets and his ebony armor before placing the much lighter Chainmail. Although the Chainmail was a darker shade of black it still looked well with the ebony helmet and boots. He then placed his gauntlets back on. Feeling it fit nicely he nodded a thanks before giving his chest piece to Ria asking her to place it in his room.

Talion called out to Ria. "You're in charge while I and the other Circle members are gone. And please, try and keep the brawls to a minimum."

Ria grinned before nodding. "I'll try but no promises. Wish you all the luck Harbinger."

Talion greeted her back before he and Vilkas walked up the stairs and out of the mead hall.

Whiterun Stables

"Tell me again why we are summoning a dragon?" Vilkas said in between bites of dried Horker meat. He was currently walking side by side the Dragonborn meat in one hand, knapsack in the other.

"Well, the journey to Solitude is far from here. Rather than trek for a solid week or so making our way there. An old friend has agreed to fly us there as he is also needed in that region."

Vilkas scratched his head. "Mmm… Seems like laziness to me. Is the Harbinger becoming a milk-drinker?"

Talion spoke with a voice of mirth. "Would you like to Trek through the dangerous planes when we don't need to? Please, me lazy. I'm being tactical. I usually only ask him for help in a fight or a ride when it's an emergency. Dragons are prideful creatures and I would never take advantage of a friend like that."

"Tcc whatever you say."

Walking a bit further they finally arrived at a large patch of land. "Here good?" Vilkas asked.

Talion nodded before he took a depth breath allowing his lungs to be filled with oxygen before he let out a great big shout.

"Od Ah Viing." He boomed.

It silent for a few minutes before the roar of a dragon shook the sky. Talion scanned the sky until his eyes landed on the red body of a large winged beast circling the sky and unexpectedly a large dragon similar to a frost appearance with spikes protruding from its head down its gray-greenish back to its tail.

Both dragons in their glory and night stood before the Dragonborn who smiled surprised who was in front of him. "No way… Durnehviir? This is unexpected."

The greenish dragon named Durnehviir nodded its large head. "Geh, It has been a while young Qahnaarin."

Dragonborn smiles as his title given to him a long time ago by the former deceased dragon. He turned his eyes back to Odahviing. "Greetings old friend. Thank you for coming. I was surprised to see Durnehviir here. Where did you two meet?"

The red dragon smiled. "Drem Yol Lok Dovahkiin. It is good to see you Fahdon. Aye as you know after the defeat of Alduin The World Eater I was charged with finding and guiding the other Dovah to Paarthurnax. Durnehviir here is my second in command."

Durnehviir pipped in. "He speaks the truth Dovahkiin. After you freed me from the Sil Cairn I soared the skies of Keizaal until I met Odahviing. From there I met with Odahviing who told me of what transpired while I was trapped in The Cairn. I agreed to help him to train and find other Dovah."

Dragonborn smiled. "My, glad you were freed from that wretched place. I hope all goes well with the recruiting."

Odahviing's voice boomed with a bit of sadness. "Geh Ahrk Nid. There are still some Dovah who are Mid to Alduin despite his demise and are revolting against our Uth. But Kogaan to you the Lein is safe once again, Mu heard of Hin Viik Wah Harkon Ahrk The Dovahkiin Miraak. Hin Thu'um is filled Voth Mulaag Ahrk Zin Dovahkiin."

Talion bowed his head slightly. "Thank you. Your words are too kind. But yes. I am relieved both of you are here. Is the request still up?"

"Geh Mu will take you to Solitude Dovahkiin." The dragon then grinned. "Someone has to take your lazy Joor ass."

Vilkas walking over to Durnehviir chuckled. "See? Told you I was right."

"Tc whatever you say. I'll still kick your ass in a fight." Dragonborn states before climbing on the wing belonging to Odahviing. He hoisted himself up before fastening his knapsack to the dragon's body and grabbing a firm hold on the dragon's spikes.

He glanced over to see Vilkas awkwardly try and climb Durnehviir. He watched him slip and fall on the ground before he burst out laughing.

He stopped when he saw the cold glare Vilkas was giving him. With Vilkas fastened on the dragon's body. Both dragons began to beat their wings and ascended up higher and higher before taking off into the afternoon sky.

About a few hours later it had gotten close to 10 o'clock. Rather than continue flying so late Talion told Odahviing to stop at Eldersblood Peak and rest there before taking off in the morning.

Eldersblood was a half point between their destination and made for a good vantage point. After scaring off a large horde of bandits that had taken refuge up at the peaks highest point thanks to two large dragons landing. The Dragonborn and Vilkas had set up camp while Odahviing and Durnvir flew overhears and secured a perimeter around the area.

Currently sitting in front of a large makeshift fire pit was Talion and Vilkas who both despite their Nord heritage would even die of cold this high up. The two dragons were currently laying down around them like a protective circle and blocking off some of the cold with their bodies.

Vilkas currently roasting beef over the cook spit strikes up a conversation with Talion who was currently leaned back on a pile of logs he made as a makeshift seat also watching the leg of lamb he was currently cooking.

"Alright, I admit. Walking all the way towards Solitude would have taken a long ass time. Glad we didn't." He heard both dragons snort sending a puff of smoke to come out.

"But by Ysgramor's Beard, I'm excited for this hunt and to see the Circle again after so long."

Talion grabbing the leg of lamb noticing it was cooked began to apply the spices he brought with before taking a bite out of the warm meat. "Aye. To be apart of one of the greatest hunts besides the Great Hunt by Hircine himself is an honor. And to be doing it in the company of friends no less."

Vilkas uncorked the bottle of Nord Mead before he took a big swig from the bottle before wiping his mouth and replying. "Indeed. Although if I put my money on it. I'd say you are happy we have a certain individual coming with us."

Talion nearly choked on his lamb before he glanced up at looked at Vilkas. "And what do you mean by that Vilkas?"

Vilkas rolled his eyes. "Please. Don't act as if I don't know how much you are infatuated with Aela. It's practically on your face whenever you are around here. You have become very close friends over the years."

Talion rubbed his head sheepishly and sighed. "Yes, good friends but could we be more than that though. You know Aela. She's a strong, keen-minded Nord who doesn't want to be with a self-centered pompous milk-drinking prick. why would she see me other than a close friend and the Harbinger."

Vilkas pinched his nose. _'I swear. Talion skill with a sword is unmatched, he's a crack shot with a boy and his skill as a tactician and leader is magnificent but when it comes to females it's like Divine gave him a head made out of_ air _.'_

"Talion. Look, man, you are right Aela is into strong-willed man. But she respects you and cares deeply for you. She knows you aren't a leader who acts high and mighty and that you're always ready to be honorable and help others. You're a good friend and a great leader. Just talk to her."

Talion smiled before taking a sip from the mead. "Thank you Vilkas. I'm just trying to fulfill the promise I made Kodlak and be a good leader. Yes, you are right I'll talk to her. If she rejects my affection won't mean she will think any less of me."

Vilkas knowing how much Aela also likes Talion was promised by both parties that he would not tell either one of their affection towards the other. Needless to say, watching both of them act like lovesick puppies when alone was cringe. He chuckled. "Don't be getting soft on me Talion Blackfang."

Talion grabbed a snowball before hurdling it at Vilkas face. "Shut up you." He grinned.

The duo after drinking and enjoying the company slept only a short while. The sun would not rise for another 2 hours or so this, however, did not stop the two travelers who were eager to get ready. After eating breakfast the two Werewolf Companions climbed up on the dragons before they flew further to their destination.

Finally arriving at Solitude the two dragons decided to land at a more secluded area near the forest just outside the Solitude Stables. Knowing that their cover would be blown the minute the dragons were spotted. After landing they both said thank you to Odahviing and Durnehviir before they made their way to the main gates on foot.

Walking up the path surrounded by walls they couldn't practically see the Castle walls from here in all its grey glory. Passing the stone arch he nodded at a couple of guards at the front entrance and gave them identification as competitors in the hunt.

They were accepted and let through into the large city stone walls surrounding it on all sides fitted with clean stone streets and a busy market to the north. To the right were the famous execution platform and stone block Talion first saw coming to Solitude. To the far Northwest lay a large pathway leading up to the Imperial Office and training grounds followed by the Blue Palace where Jarl Elisif lived. What had currently taken Talion eyes were the large group of men and woman of all different races either standing and talking to each other or lined up to large blacksmith shop on the right currently serving its fair share of customers.

The competitors were here like Talion and Vilkas each here solo or with a group ready to partake in a bloody hunt of the greatest beast of Tamriel and win the uncountable amounts of treasure that would ensue.

Talion not bothered by the sight of a large crowd of armed men and woman nor the lingering looks he was receiving for his strange yet powerful armor that radiated a stormy greyish glow against the midnight black armor began to walk to the inn; The Winking Skeever followed by Vilkas who was close behind.

Entering the inn his heightened senses were engulfed with a less than comfortable smell. The once inviting and warm atmosphere of the inn with its rustic furnishings, well-made carpets and the smell of lavender and cooking food was replaced with the smell of sweat, mead, meat, and steel filled with the large group of armed men and women crowding the small inn inside. Talion walking past a small group of Khajiits each wearing Iron Armor with enchanted frost or fire swords eyes him coldly.

Talion stood scanning trying to find the group he was supposed to meet finally noticing his friends all sitting comfortably at a table a few feet from him under a small archway. Farkas noticed our presence and motioned us over. Smiling he began to walk over when I heard the loud drop of an expensive vase and hearing a little girl cry.

Glancing to the front of the inn by the counter was a young Imperial woman in a white and gold dress currently on the floor trying to pick up pieces of a vase beside her was a young blonde girl around 8 years old crying. He turned slightly to the right and his eyes narrowed. In his view was a large group of unruly and loud warriors. An Imperial man wearing full iron armor, a Nordic woman dressed in steel armor and a Breton female wizard dressed in Mage uniform. One of the men most likely the leader by how his comrades were flanking him currently had his dirty foot rested on a small child's toy and he began to squish it while laughing.

The little girl cried harder and the woman probably the Mom was apologizing for bumping into them and begging them to let her and her daughter go.

"Quite Bitch! Your mewling! It's giving me a headache." He said before knocking over the basket she had in her other hand.

Talion walked forward standing right behind the group of warriors laughing like hyenas descending on a doe. He stopped behind the leader before he spoke in a stern voice. "We have a problem here?"

The leader turned his head and then his body around before facing Talion. The man with his ugly facial features, a large scar going down his face, crooked nose and sullen eyes chuckled. "My my. That's quite the armor you have there. Tell you what cunt you hand it over I won't pummel your face into the ground."

Talion not moving an inch spoke in a colder voice this time. "Not gonna happen. Now remove your foot from the girl's doll and apologize to the lady." He then cracked his knuckles. "Or else."

The leader stepped forward a few inches from his face. Talion towering over him by a solid foot and a half. Even from that height, Talion could smell his rotten breath. "Or else what? what are you gonna do about it?" He asked.

"You really don't want to find out." Talion states before resting his hand on the pommel of his Nightingale blade. In the corner of his eye, he could see Vilkas was standing beside him hand resting on the large ebony blade resting on his back ready to strike and defend his shield-brother should the moment arise. The leader stood still staring coldly at Talion in a heated staring contest, staring coldly at the pitch dark voidless eyes on his mask. Talion stared straight back.

After a few moments, the leader guy gave up and waved his hands in defeat. "Alright fine you win. I'll leave."

The lead warrior began to walk away but was grabbed by Talion steely grip. He began to apply pressure squishing the man's arm who winced in pain but tried to hid his discomfort in a facade. "Apologize to the lady. NOW."

The leader guy feeling his strong grip glanced over at the lady still standing in shock before saying. "I'm sorry miss. Please forgive me." The young Imperial slowly nodded still staring in shock.

Talion let the man go and watched the group of warriors walk away and find an empty table to sit in. Turning back his attention at the two girls in front of him. He saw the lady had begun to pick up tie glass pieces and placed the food and contents back in her basket. She stopped and her eyes looked in fear at Talion mask. "Thank you for what you did sir." She muttered with uncertainty and fear.

Talion removed his hood and the top half of his mask exposing his eyes. He smiled at her and noticed her hands were shaking and bleeding from being cut by the glass. He bends down on one knee and grabbed her hands softly. The imperial lady still scared began to shiver but stopped when she felt a warm golden feeling wash over here. She glanced down at her hands and noticed that the cuts began to heal the blood washed away. She stared wide-eyed before she looked at Talion. She eyed him quizzically.

There wasn't a hint of bad intent from him. He didn't have the same arrogant self-centered exterior as a lot of the armed warriors that gathered here at the Inn. She could feel kindness and warmth radiate from him. He began to pick up the broken pieces and placed them in the basket. "There all better. I'm sorry I can't fix the vase as well."

She was about to respond but Talion had turned his attention away from her and towards the little girl, eyes closed crying. He reached down and grabbed the child's doll. A small doll dressed in an orange and yellow dress with a smile on its face. He grabbed the doll and began to dust off the dirt before he moved forward and spoke. "Here little one. Good as new." He spoke handling the doll to her. The little girl stopped crying for a moment before glancing up at him. She sobbed before reaching out slowly and grabbing the doll.

Still kneeling on one leg he spoke again. "What's your name little one?" Talion spoke in a soft voice.

The girl hesitated for a few seconds before speaking. "My name is Alicia."

Talion smiled. "Alicia. That's a beautiful name." The girl slowly formed a smile. "Tell you what Alicia. I got a little something for you. Don't tell your mom though I don't think she would like you getting full before lunch. Our little secret." He reached into his pouch and grabbed a handful of sweets before handing them over to her.

Her eyes widened and she smiled before taking them. "Thanks, mister." She ran back to her mom and showed her the candy she got. Talion stood back up before walking over to the lady. She smiled with tears in her eyes. "Thank you so much. Bless your heart."

Talion waved her off. "No need miss. Just helping out where I can. Speaking off, hope this pays for the damage of the vase, he won't be needing this anymore." Talion reaches into his pocket and grabbed a large coin purse he had stolen from under the man's nose. The purse easily had over 200 gold septims and the Dragonborn using his skills as a master thief stole it like child's play.

The lady's eyes widened even further before she ran over and hugged him. "Thank you Thank you Thank you." She took the coin purse and hide it in her basket before she grabbed her daughter's hand and walked out of the inn.

Talion grabbed his knapsack from Vilkas who has been silent the whole time before he walked over to the table. He saw his other close shield brother Farkas eating a large leg of roasted lamb. He also saw Karliah also wearing her Thieves Guild uniform and agreed to come with and help during the hunt. Karliah after the ordeal of the Thieves Guild and the death of her lover decided to reopen the Nightingale Order and sought out new recruits into the shadowy order.

His gaze landed finally on Aela who was currently talking with Farkas and laughing what he said. He let his eyes linger on her beauty, her warm smile, her vibrant red hair her tough warrior exterior. Shaking the thoughts out of his head he walked over hoping to surprise her unaware she had seen what he did moments before. Aela watched Talion with loving eyes and smiled when she saw him hand the doll back to the girl. _'Typical Talion. Always ready to act selflessly for the good of others. It's amazing even after all these years and the literal God statues he earned it never let it go to his head. I always admired that about him.'_

Talion finally arriving at the table patted Farkas on the back. "Hey, guys. Long time no see."

Farkas' head turned and he stood up off the chair before embracing his friend and leader in a beat hug. Although Talion had massive strength and a large body even he was not immune to the strength of Farkas who was praised as having the strength of Ysgramor himself. So young Talion was not prepared for the hug that began to squish the life out of him. "Ow damn it Ice Brains. Go easy on the strength will you."

The table laughed and Farkas released his grip. "Sorry Harbinger."

"Hey what did I tell you about titles when it's just us. Call me Talion remember."

Farkas nodded and Talion turned his attention towards Aela who walked over before giving him an equally hard hug but one he didn't mind. He didn't realize his hands had wrapped around her and that they stood there for a good few minutes.

An awkward cough later thanks to Vilkas and the crew were finally sitting at the table. Vilkas and Farkas and Karliah sat on one end Talion at the hook of the table and Aela on the other side.

Vilkas tightly wrapped his arm around Farkas much to the senior Companions annoyance. "Almost forgot. I have a present for you little brother." He said hiding the grin that began to form in the corner of his lips.

Farkas eyes slightly raised up at the mention of a present. "Oh? You've got my attention. What did you get me?"

Vilkas remover his hand before grabbing his knapsack. "Better if I show you. You'll love it trust me." He stated before reaching into the knapsack. Making sure his hand wasn't visible he pulled it out in a flash and slammed his hand on the table in his hand was a giant stuffed toy of a cave spider.

Farkas seeing the spider. Immediately stood up tripping over his chair and falling backwards. "GAAAHHH! Damn it Vilkas! It's not funny ya' yere"

Vilkas still holding it playfully teases the younger brother while laughing loudly.

"Give me that damn thing! I'm gonna burn it in the bloody planes of Oblivion." Farkas growled reaching out to the toy with the intent of burning it to cinders.

The table erupted into laughter and even Talion lost in thought. chuckled at the two brothers antics.

"Hey, that's not nice. Your brother got you a gift you know."

Karliah with her mask removed and hood still up glanced at the Dragonborn in confusion. Talion still laughing noticed this and responded. "Long ago still in my first year back in Skyrim, we trekked towards Dustman's Cairn in search of one of the legendary Fragments of Wuuthrad. We engaged an alarming number of frostbite spiders and Farkas had to fight all of them. There he grew a fear of spiders. This wasn't sealed until we journeyed to Ysgramor's Tomb to free Kodlak spirit from Hircine's Hunting Grounds."

A new voice interrupted the conversation and spoke. "Will he be remembered Kodlak the last good Harbinger we had. Now replaced by this Welp." He spat.

Talion glanced to his left and saw someone he grew to despise. "Nice of you to show up, Skjor. Beginning to think you wouldn't show up."

Skjor snorted. "And let you taint our great and honorable name? Like hell. Making sure you don't act like a fool out there." He replied with a hint of venom.

Ever since Talion had saved Skjor from being impaled with a sword by a Silver Hand He has loathed the Dragonborn more. He daily tries to belittle him, judge his decisions and question his leadership. Even long after Aela made it clear not to do it in her presence.

Talion was about to speak his mind when Aela cut him off. "Hey, you two relax. This supposed to be a great moment for us, a dangerous and exciting hunt that many journey to experience all its flavors. What Skjor here is trying to say."

She places her hand on Talions hand softly. "Is that we are worried for you. Lydia told me through a summoning messenger of your health and your visions."

Talion groaned. _'Damn it, Lydia, it's nothing I can't handle. I'm not some child who needs babysitting.'_

Vilkas sparked up. "Visions? What visions? What is she talking about Talion?"

"You mean you don't know? You never once guessed his mood was slightly off. My, I don't know if I should be calling you Ice for Brains." She replied.

"Please, we all know there's only one who needs that title. And no not everyone has your gifted intuition Aela."

Aela scoffed before she turned towards the Harbinger. "So Talion, what is on your mind?" Voice filled with concern and worry.

Talion smiled at her concern for him and finally let up. He leaned forward elbows resting on the table before he spoke of the dream, he talked about the cold ice, the men in different cloaks fighting a seemingly endless swarm of skeletons, the voice that spoke, the ice spiders, Westeros, Azor Ahai, Three-Eyed Raven, and the Mother of Dragons.

"Westeros? I have never heard of such a place in my life. Why would it tell you to go there?" Vilkas said scratching his beard.

"Must have to do with this strange phenomenon of undead skeletons and ice spiders. They must be a serious threat if they did all that. And Three-Eyed Raven? I know it doesn't mean literal does it?" Aela inquired trying to think of an answer to the bizarre dream.

Farkas groaned in pain. "Ice Spiders… why did it have to be spiders." His cries of pain were ignored by the others lost in thought.

"Whatever it is can't be good. I'm telling you. The way that pale ice creature stared at me, the cold icy eyes of pure evil. I didn't see anything but lust for power, violence, and death. It was almost like the eyes of…" his voice trailed off.

"Almost like what? Talion." Aela asked noticing his voice changing into something troubling.

Talion noticed that the entire table even Skjor was paying attention out the corner of his eye. Talion took a depth breath before he told them of the strange beast haunting his dreams.

"At first it was the same thing I woke up in a large underground hall of some sorts. Just all pitch blackness except for the long line of fire pits stretching out until they are faint yellow dots. The air is super hot almost like the inside of a furnace and filled with killing intent and bloodlust. Like a big fight is about to start." The table was silent which was interesting compared to the large chatter happening.

He continued on. "It always ends the same way though. I see this large beast easily 13 feet tall standing on two feet like a man holding a sword made of pure red steel and fire, growling at me. It's a body covered in this hot rocky substance and veins of molten lava decorating its body. It has spiked sticking out all over its back and arms like a weapon. And on its face, it's almost the shape of a large lizard-like creature with two horns on either side. It roars at me and then I wake up."

The table was silent no one spoke the description of the beast sent chills down everyone's spine more so for Karliah. "No, it can't be." She muttered.

Talion hearing her faint voice glanced over at her. "It can't be what Karliah?" He asked.

Karliah hands shaking slightly. "Your description it sounds all too familiar to something I knew but it can't be. The thing was slain centuries ago."

"What thing? What are you speaking off?" Aela asked.

Karliah reaches into her bag to pull out a book of some sorts. She began to flip the pages almost in search of something before she stopped. "Of Balrog The Inferno." She states timidly before placing the boom on the table and everyone muttered around the page the book was currently on. "More importantly a fire demon from the inner circles of Oblivion."

Talion stared wide-eyed before he glanced up at her. "A fire demon? How do you know this."

Karliah grabbed a writing tool of sorts and began to jot words down on a roll of paper. "This book is a book on the great beast and monsters of Tamriel. O took it within case we ran into any unknown creatures but I was not expecting this."

She stopped writing and gave the notes to Talion before she explained. "You know that the planes of Oblivion are split up into separate dominions or Daedric Princes. And you know you have your benevolent Daedric Princess and Princes like Azura and then your dangerous ones like Dagon and Boethiah. Balrog is from the planes of Coldharbour Molags Domain. He was one of the chief demons and executioners of disobedient souls hundreds of years before the Oblivion Crisis. A merciless and fierce fighter that killed powerful warriors and mages alike. This was during a time when Molag Bal tried to fuse Mundus and Coldharbour together. In the aftermath of Molags defeat, Balrog was slain in combat and his soul sent back to the bowels of hell."

"How do you know all this?" Talion asked still shocked at the revelation of centuries-old demon plaguing his dreams.

"I know this Talion because one of the original Agents of Nocturnal was one of the individual's responsible for the demons death. Nocturnal has granted the man and his companions incredible luck against the demon in exchange for service to her. But I don't understand why this demon is coming back. It doesn't make sense."

"It does. It's called a wild imagination the Dragonborn has conjured up. He's bored hasn't had much due to being a lazy milk-drinker at home. Just a bunch of stories and fairytales." He sneered.

Talion glared at Skjor. "You would know all about fairytales, wouldn't you Skjor."

Skjor raised off his seat hands clenched ready to send a punch towards Talion who was equally prepared to retaliate.

Aela noticed the tension and tried to de-escalate the situation. "Hey, this isn't the time you guys. If what Karliah says is true we have a real problem on our hands… wait, you said your dream this time it was different. What changed in your new dream?" Aela asked trying to ignore the petty hate between her closest friends.

Talion face turned dark and grim. He tried to think back on where it was. "I remember the demon charging at me, I remember rapid flashes of me fighting the beast and then I heard.. a child…" his eyes widened and he was about to speak up when his vision became blurry. He began to sway and falter before his eyes turned white and he passed out falling in the ground. The last haunting words in his mind. A menacing demonic voice echoing. **"It's a too late insect, you are too late."**

A few occupants noticed the young Dragonborn laying on the floor a few snickers went around that he couldn't stomach his fill. A few worries glances went around, however, the room was still vibrant and filled with chatter and the yells from Aela currently knelt over Talion trying to wake him up. "Talion! Talion! Wake up!" She tried to shake him back into reality.

Vilkas reaches his two fingers to Talions neck, he let out a relieved sigh, there was a pulse. He was about to use a potion when Talions eyes opened and his head raised up almost banging it into Farkas' head.

"Talion are you ok?" She reaches out her hand but Talion didn't respond he grabbed the table and hoisted himself up. Almost to fast sending a rush of blood up into his head. Talion realizing he is back, in reality, speaks voice barely a whisper compared to his usual booming powerful voice.

"No no no no. This can't be happening. This can't be." Talion shaking his head muttering.

Talion what's wrong are you ok?" Farkas stood next to his close friend and leader.

"Boys finally lost his mind." Came the voice of Skjor almost chuckling.

Aela shot her mentor and close friend a quick glare then turned her attention back to Talion. The rest of the Companions ignored him and the huddled around Talion.

Talion stopped when he heard the faint voice of the demon again. He immediately grabbed his knapsack and started to walk but Vilkas grabbed him. "Where are you-"

"Look, guys, I can't explain! I have to go now I can't come on the hunt." Talion spoke hands shaking.

"Course you'd chicken out at the last second. Welp more fun for us then." Skjor said yawning in boredom.

Talion glared icy daggers at Skjor. "For fuck's sake, this isn't the time you envy's prick." Finally letting out some of the anger he kept at bay.

Skjor eyes twitched and his teeth clenched. "Why you little shit. What did you call me?!" He took a few steps forward preparing to knock his lights out but stopped when he saw Aela stare at him in disgust. "Calm yourself Skjor. This is not the time you hear." Normally she would try and ease the tension between the two. But today she was concerned and frankly worried. This was not the usual Talion she could feel an emotion she hadn't felt in a long time. Fear. Genuine full-blown fear.

Even when Talion flew on top of his first dragon, when he fought the silver hand, defeated Alduin never once heard or saw any fear in him. Just pure focus and determination. Now she could feel fear radiating off him. It unnerved her. "Talion what's wrong what happened."

Talion's eyes widened and he stared at Aela beads of sweat dripping off his forehead. "The Demon… I know where it is."

Everyone's eyes widened in the fact it was not only a vision but that the demon was here. then Vilkas asked the regretting question. "Where is it?"

Talion still shaking faces Vilkas before he uttered slowly 2 eerie and haunting words. "Lakeview Manor."

 **Outside The Winking Skeever**

The door to the tavern flung open and Talion carrying his gear bolted out not carrying that he almost rammed his sword hilt into the chest of a pale green Orc big as a mountain with great big arms that could tear a man in two.

Ignoring the angry looks he revived he bolted down his companions Followed soon trying to get their guild leader to stop.

"Hold on a moment Talion, what do you mean Lakeview Manor?"

Talion not stopping only increasing the pace spoke. "Exactly what I mean Vilkas somehow the demon is in my home. I must get Lydia, Serena and the kids to safety."

"Well go with you then," Aela said firm as she sped up her pace to join the Dragonborn.

Talion finally stopped almost gidding to a halt. "No, I need you here. Skjor and Karliah can't go on the hunt alone. And I need someone to relay the info to Jarl Balgruuf that a demon is near his lands. I will do this myself."

"Talion you don't even know how strong the demon is. What if it kills you? What then?" Vilkas replied.

"Look we don't have time to argue. I've faced much worse before and survived with a few scratches my family is on the line here." He said barely audible over the sound of his loud beating heart and the adrenaline pumping through his veins.

A soft yet firm hand grasped his shoulder causing him to stop walking again. It was Aela who spoke "Which is why we won't let you do this on your own. We like those kids and we'll be damned to let anything happen to them." Talion turned to see Farkas, Vilkas, Aela, and Karliah standing proud and smiling at him.

He nodded calming down a little. "Fine. Aela you and Farkas come with me. Vilkas send a magical message to the other companions as well as the Jarl of Whiterun to set up a perimeter. In case the demon escaped we need to be able to trap and destroy it. Karliah If you and Skjor can maybe learn more about this fiend weakness and strengths. Will be a great help."

"I'll do my best Talion," Karliah said smiling.

Talion nodded before he bolted out the large gates of Solitude followed by Aela and Farkas. With his speeds and determination, one guard would be both fearful and equally alert to such an endeavor but considering the triage of different warriors coming to The Hunt the guards were bit more laxed than usual.

Talion after summoning the Dragons again knowing he's never reached his home in time on foot or even horseback explained to the dragon about the danger to his family in as many short words his hot-headedness would allow. The dragons knowing the importance of kin and taken a liking to the children agreed to help.

Talion, Aela, and Farkas climbed on Odahviing while Vilkas climbed on the other dragon heading to warn the nearest Jarl.

A few hours had gone since the trio of warriors embark on their journey out of Skyrim to the legendary hunt famed for its glory and loot now eagerly pressing on to save their friends family from unspeakable evil.

Talion in front holding onto the dragon's neck heightened senses were suddenly engulfed with the dry crisp smell of burning wood and death.

The manor Came into view and he squinted his eyes trying to make sense of his new smells. His heartbeat spiked when he saw the manor blazing aflame, thatched roof alight, and wooden structure burning away.

His heart beat faster like the sound of war drums and his mouth became dry. "Please Mara, Talos, Kynareth let my family be ok. Please." He whispered before he ordered Odahviing to ascend down below.

The red dragon did as it was told and ascended down where once a small path, a bunch of trees and a stable with a horse now stood asunder with the charred corpse of a horse.

But Talion wasn't focused on the horse, nor was he focused on the cows, ox, and chickens he had raised now lay dead half eaten or charred. nor did he pay attention to the smells of blood, burnt flesh, and wood that filled his nostrils at nauseating speeds, nor the once proud built manor half burnt to cinders with the right side slowest burning away.

No, he was focused on the two small bodies that lay beside the battered and burnt door leading into his home. Talion took in a deep breath and his eyes widened, he bolted as fast as his legs could carry him, his companions close behind.

As he reached a few feet from the bodies he stopped, time seemed to slow and his hands became sweaty, his heart beats sounded like his heart would leap out of his chest at any moment, his legs became shaky and he couldn't breathe.

"No please Talos no, please." Talon walked slowest and dropped to his knees with a loud thud. He reached slowly his hands shaking as he touched Samuels charred corpse burnt black. Despite the heat radiating from the body and it burning his skin he didn't care. He held Samuel like a newborn. "Sa-Sa-Sam… no this can't be, no my son…" the tears that were held back began to drop as he looked down on the body he hoped would surpass and be a better warrior than he was. A boy that would not see the real horrors of the world as he had at such a young age. Talion loves Samuel like a son despite not being his own flesh and blood.

A slight wheeze and sputtering sound like someone was choking caused Talions head to bolt up. He glanced to his right and saw Sofie lying on her back. Breathing shallow breaths despite being torn apart with large gash marks.

Without thinking he slide to her side and held her head with his hand. He smiled sadly. "That's my girl. As stubborn as your old man. Hang in there Sofie father has you he won't let anything happen."

He turned to Aela who was crouched on the opposite end of him holding her hand softly. Tears already shedding despite her tough exterior and warrior-like bravado Talion knee of her soft heart. He noticed a large wooden panel had fallen on her legs. "Here help me move this Farkas!" He thought he spoke in a regular volume but being so on edge and pumped it sounded like a shout.

He and Farkas grabbed the large panel and lifted it up before throwing it behind them. The panel landed next to the carpenters' bench. He then knelt back beside Sofie.

Sofie not moving a muscle most likely from the massive blood loss and life-threatening injuries could only move her eyes with the little strength. She turned her eyes to meet Talions reddened and watery eyes staring at her with warmth and love. He began to concentrate and placed his hands on the large hole in her small chest. He turned his eyes away fearing he would throw up or pass out he turned his attention to the pale face of his daughter. His hands glowed bright yellow and he began to heal. She whines and moaned in pained. "Hang in there. I know this hurts. You're gonna be ok… stay with me." Doubt and fear created into his mind but he shook it out and pushed with all his might.

"Just focus on me. Focus on my voice. Come on baby fight back." He frantically began praying to all the gods in his head while he healed.

A small faint hand reached out slowly and grabbed his hand softly. He turned his eyes to hers. She smiled coughing up blood before she spoke slowly. "P-P-Pa… you came back. I… knew you… would."

"of course I would you know I'd do anything for you both. Just be still ok? I need to work on your injuries And make you good as new."

The logical side of his brain knew with her blood loss and injuries she was holding on through sheer stubbornness and luck. "N-No… it's ok Pa you saved us. You took us in. *cough *cough when no one… else did." Her voice became shallower and shallower.

Tears began to form around Talions eyes, he moved closer placing her small head in his chest. "Hey shh don't speak just let me work on fixing you. You make it sound like it's already over?" He said with a sad smile.

Sofie chuckled softly and more blood began to exit her mouth. *cough *cough "Aunt Serena left before that thing attacked… she should be safe Pa... i-is Aunt Lydia ok?" She tried to lift her head to see but Talion held her down gently.

"Shhhh lie still." He glanced over through the burning building to see where the main entrance was Lydia was lying sprawled on the floor, torn in half her lifeless eyes staring at him from afar.

His eyes watered again and he clenched his teeth before he looked back down at Sofie who had an expecting look on her face. "Yes, Aunt Lydia is fine little one." It pained him to lie to her but he was selflessly trying to get another smile out of her.

Sofie closed her eyes and smiled. "Tha-That-That's good to hear. I knew you would save her… Pa?" She opened her eyes and looked at him.

Talion was still caressing her cheek tears flowing. "Yes, I'm here? Whatever you need?" He held her hand with both of his now.

Talion could feel her Life Force slipping away. She exhaled and inhaled trying to grab air before she managed to speak. "Tha-Thank y-you for loo-look-ing after me an...d Sam… is the best father ever." With each passing word, her breath became shallower until she gave one final death rattling cry.

"Sofie….?" Panic began to fill him again.

"Come on don't do this to me. Don't do this to me little one. Come on."

His hands shook and his breathing was shallow, he tried to stand up and his legs gave up and he fell to the ground. Sofie still clung tightly to his chest. "No, no, no... please no. Please don't do this." He hugged her tightly.

10 minutes had gone by when a soft hand belonging to Aela found its way into his shoulder. "Talion…. It's time-"

He shrugged her hand off his shoulder. "NO! SHES NOT DEAD! She's not…" he turned back around and stared into Sofie's eyes. Once filled with happiness and hope for the future now empty and lifeless.

He slowly placed her body onto the ground and stood up and walked a few traces back. He began pacing. "No, no, no, this can't be no…"

"Talion…" she began but he ignored her.

Talion suddenly turned around and In a fit of pure frenzy and rage unleashed his Thu'um, usually required to use words to channel. Talion has channeled his anger and pain into a massive surge of wind like a wave into a large great oak tree 10 meters from where he was standing. It completely tore it in half and shattered it with an unrelenting force sending the massive tree into shattered pieces on the dirt ground.

He sunk down into his knees slowly. His hands covered still covered in his children's blood. His heart was pounding a million miles a beat and his stomach was churning. It finally settled: his children brutally murdered, one of his oldest and closest friends dead, his home destroyed and burning.

"Tailion! We need to put out the fire! Talion? Talion?! Can you hear me?" He could hear the faint voice of Vilkas calling out to him but it wasn't registering in his brain.

Vilkas then turned to Odahviing. "You know the lake on the south side of the manor?"

The red dragon nodded.

"I need you to fly over and scoop up water with your mouth and reign it down on the house." The Dragon nodded and a moment later was in the air to collect water.

Aela began to grab a bucket of water from the well and began putting out the fires closest to the entrance. The south side of the bedrooms was burnt to a crisp but most of the north like the Armory and Kitchen was mostly left unscathed. She would leave the most intense part for the Dragon. Vilkas began using frost spells.

Aela grabbing another bucket poured it onto Talion snapping him out of his trance. He quickly conjured up a massive amount of magic and sent a powerful stream of pure ice and frost.

It took the combined effort of Odahviing, Aela Vilkas, and Talion to finally extinguish all the fire. Leaving a cold damp and smoky pile of wood panels and other debris. Most of the right side of the armory was left unscathed.

The group panted for a few moments to catch their breath. Talion noticed a strange message carved into the cliff side decorated with mostly depleted iron ore veins. He walked over to get a closer look. The message was in carved jagged bright red edges which he recognized as blood like someone had taken a bloody knife and carved a message into the cliffside. "Come find me at Skuldafn. The predator awaits your demise."-Balrog

Talion eyes contorted into hatred and anger. "I'm going to rip that bastard in half."

"What I don't get is why. Why would this fire demon or whatever come to your home and do… all this."

Talion walks back to the group. "Bait. Wants to draw me out. And it worked. I'm going to Skuldafn and I'm going to rip this monsters guts out."

"What about….?" Vilkas said gesturing to the sheer carnage in front of them.

"We'll do it later. Need to kill this son of a bitch now."

Aela walked up to Talion and slapped him across the face hard. Leaving a red mark on his uncovered skin. "Damn it Talion! YOU just lost your kids and your home. I know you want revenge we all do. But put this bloodlust aside for a second. We need to bury them."

Talion eyes widened for a second before they turned into a look of pure shame. "You're right. I'm sorry."

Aela gave Talion a quick hug trying to comfort her friend and the one she loves.

The hug lasted a few minutes before Talion picked up Sofie's empty body and Aela picked up Samuel. While Vilkas picked up Lydia and carried two shovels. "We're we going to…"

"Just follow me." Was all that Talion could muster.

Vilkas shared a sympathetic look with Aela before they followed their friend.

Talion led them past Pinewatch shack and up the hill overlooking the Manor. There has been a group of followers growing on the top. He led them to the top before he stopped. "Here is good. I use to take them up here sometimes for a picnic. Had the best view…" Talion could feel a lump forming in his throat but he swallowed it.

Talion helped his two Companions create a large hole and two tiny ones for the kids. He slowly lifted their bodies into the six feet holes. He placed Lydia's steel sword lying on top of her hands clamping over the handle. He then placed white roses Sofie's favorite in her hand and her favorite doll and for Samuel. He placed the enchanted small Skyforge Dagger he had given to Samuel for his eighth name day. He noticed the small bracelet around Samuels' wrist and removed it slowly. He untied the knot before fastening it around his own wrist. He made the bracelet for Samuel upon returning from Solstheim. It was a simple bracelet with a silver winged helmet of Talos with a single silver hammer crisscrossing the helmet.

After filling the grounds he stood solemnly his companions standing beside him. He spoke a few words and prayed to Talos each of them would find Sovrengarde before he walked back down the hill companions close behind.

"We should get going to Skuldafn No telling how patient this demon is."

"What about the others? We have no idea how powerful this demon is Talion. We may need bac-"

"No" he interrupted her. "We can handle it, I'm not gonna let this son of a bitch kill anyone else. I'm gonna kill this thing alone."

Vilkas places a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Very well three Companions against a powerful demon. I like those odds. But if you think we're gonna let you do this alone brother. You're sorely mistaken." Giving him a reassuring smile.

Talion gave a small smile back and nodded. "Thank you both. I appreciate it."

"No need. They were our family as well. Now, let's go show this demon why we are favored by Hircine himself."

Talion nodded and walked to Odahviing before he stopped he turned around and walked back into the armory with only its walls still intact. "I can't fight him wearing my light armor. I need something stronger."

Talion returned a few minutes later wearing the sinister and dark looking Daedric Armour. One of the strongest sets of armor ever crafted and for good reason. Infused with the tough ebony ingots and mystical powers of Daedric hearts. It is unmatched in its kind. The armor created a black metallic look under the warm sun and the silver chains with its intricate and ornamental design decorating the different parts of the body.

But what was most menacing was the black spikes mounted on the shoulders and the six horn-like spikes on the very top of the helmet with its menacing large eye sockets. Combine this with the crimson glowing of cuirass and gauntlets and it was surely an intimidating and demonic looking set of armor. Causing one but to notice the irony. A man wearing demonic armor going to fight a real demon.

Strapped to his waist are his two custom Daedric swords. Rather than using the largely impractical Daedric blades designed for inflicting as much pain as possible. Talion modified it to be more quick and versatile especially against armor plated combatants. He took the base design and modified it. Instead of the curved blade, he took a design after the Imperial Gladiuses. The primary service sword to all Imperial legionaries. This allowed him to feel comfortable with a well-crafted sword he had trained and fought with for years.

The design was modified slightly With a longer handle and pommel, and a broader blade. To give it that extra strength and power against armored opponents. The sword design is a broader dark black double-edged blade shaped like a diamond with the crimson red shaped guard. The handles of the blade are onyx black with a ribbed design with crimson pommels weighted. By removing the rugged jaggedness of the base Daedric blades and using the design of the Imperial Gladiuses which are far more versatile allowing greater and deeper thrust, more powerful slashes without getting caught into clothing and small enough to dual wield and pack the power behind the Daedric material stronger than steel. On the right side of the blade, he added small serrations which would retain that deadly intimidating look and still inflict massive bleeding damage. The result was two powerful blades handled by a master swordsman with both increased speed and strength. A deadly combination.

He also grabbed his massive two-handed battleaxe with blades on each side and a sharp point at the top. With its screaming elf insignia engraved into the head a truly powerful and deadly weapon.

He walked over the burnt platform of the main entrance and joined his companions. "Let's go hunt a demon." He spoke in his gruff voice.

The trio climbed onto the back of Odahviing and flew to the ancient housing ground to the portal of Sovngarde.

 **Skuldafn**

The red dragon landed in the Skuldafn courtyard before lowering his head allowing the trio of warriors to climb off. Talion ordered his friend to wait before he inspected the area he had seen what felt like a lifetime ago. When he was still a new warrior and unsure of himself. Now replaced with a hardened warrior. The familiar cold mountain air brushed against his thick but insulated armor like it was excited for something to come. The trio made their way up the stairs. A few Draugr awoke from slumber and made their way towards the group. Those that weren't quickly dispatched by Aela's expert archery were instantly turned into an ashen pile by Talion blast of lightning. He was in no mood for these minions. He was on a warpath of vengeance and no Draugr would stop him.

The group of warriors made their final step before opening the doors of the temple. Doors that would forever change his life.

They spend the next while going through the many familiar hallways and rooms filled with hordes of Draugr. A once either thrilling adventure Talion would have had with his companions was replaced with hatred and annoyance. He slashed and battered any that close to him. Eventually conjuring a Flame Atronach to dispel the almost never-ending horde.

Finally arriving at the familiar top of the temple the trio pressed on dispatching a few more Draugr. Each time they pressed on the air became heavier and heavier with a sense of evil and bloodlust. The air was a cold and thick. "Man Is this what you felt the first time journeying here Talion? There are so many of these damn skeletons."

Talion shook his head, the hair on his skin began to rise and a cold shiver was entering his body. "No. There was this many Draugr, but this air... It feels wrong." He then turned his head to meet his companions who were tensely watching for contact. "Stay on guard. We're close." He said ominously.

They made their way to a small staircase leading up. The staircase was covered in dry bloody footprints. What made Talions blood boil was the shape of the footprint. It had massive claw marks and the creature's feet were clearly those of a massive giant.

Talion could hear the familiar whispering sound of winds howling like it was being pulled into something. That same something was glowing bright blue and purple and had a rumbling sound. The portal to Sovngarde.

Vilkas eyes widened when he saw it. "Is that?..."

Talion nodded. "The portal to Sovngarde. This was where I first entered and tracked Alduin."

Talion then turned his view to the same bloodied footprint leading around the portal. Talion's feet began to move and he slowly approached the wall behind the portal. It was glowing bright red and the closer he got the more menacing the air felt.

Just then a blinding flash blinded the trio before Talion heard loud crackling like the sound of rocks cracking and breaking under a massive force. The flat rock had turned into a small entrance. Talion couldn't see into the entrance as it was pitch dark but what he felt in there was pure bloodlust and death.

He was about to walk in when he heard the loud screeching sound he knew all too familiar. One he hated with a passion. Dragon Priest. And more than one of them. Two Dragon Priest one wearing a purple mask the other a black one suddenly appeared along with a handful of Draugr. Suddenly Talion felt he was being pulled in. His eyes widened in realization. The entrance was closing. Aela called out to him. "Talion! What are you doing?"

"The entrance is closing! Look you two handle it out here. I have to go in!" He called back.

Aela tried to call out to him and almost ran to him but a sudden fireball made her roll to the side barely dodging it. "TALION! WAIT!" But it was too late. A second later he was sucked in leaving the two Companions to fight the Draugr off. _'Please come back to me Talion.'_ Aela pleaded before she notched a flaming arrow into a Draugr's head.

Talion Slowly awoke from the cold metal floor. He rubbed his eyes to try and get use to no light. Wait. He was in pitch darkness.

Suddenly a brazier of fire lit up before another and another. Pretty soon it was a line on each side of Talion lit up in bright fires. Talion grabbed Wuuthrad from the ground before he slowly walked on the stone pathway. Even with the dozens of braziers lighting his way he could barely see a few feet in front of him.

He followed the path of braziers to a flight of stone staircases leading to two large stone doors with the skull of a demonic looking beast carved into the middle of the doors.

Talion feet moved up the stairs and he placed his hands on the circular door handles and pushed them open.

Immediately he stepped into a large circular room. It was lit with massive braziers and torches aligning the stone walls which were carved with many different designs. Like it was telling a story of some sorts. The room had large stone columns that seemed to stretch for eternity and to the front of him stood a large archway with two menacing stone statues depicting Molag Bal.

A loud menacing growl from deep within the archway made his blood boil and his anger returned.

The ground began to shake by the thundering footsteps. He focused on his attention to a massive archway in his view. The steps became louder and louder until he began to see a glow that shone through the archway. The glow became brighter and brighter until hot flames flared up on a gigantic black body. The demon was here.

It was truly a hideous and nightmarish creature. The blazing hot fire and massive volcanic like rock spikes protruding from its body. In his hand, it carried a massive Greatsword that equally flared up fire.

The creature noticing Talion grinned happily like it was about to have some serious fun. The ground shook some more as Balrog exited the archway and stood in the circular room. He twirled his sword like some gladiator showing off for the masses.

The creature spoke in a bellowing growl. **"So my opponent finally makes it. Beginning to think you wouldn't come."**

Talion gripped his battleaxe tightly. "And miss gutting you like a fish? Think not."

The demon chuckled like it was pleased with itself. **"Such anger and spirit. If only your weak offsprings showed such promise. You would not believe the male human boy screams."**

It grinned when he noticed Talions fingers aggressively hold the handle. **"Thought he'd never stop. Applaud you human. You shall be the first worthy opponent I've had in millennia. I shall reunite you with your butchered family."**

Talion began to walk forward. "Enough talk demon. I'm going to enjoy ripping you apart."

The demon grinned before it moved slowly towards the Dragonborn.

Talion closed his eyes and concentrated. Suddenly the arena like room was filled with a thundering voice.

 **SU GRAH DUN**

Suddenly a whistling sound like wind filled up and enveloped the Dragonborns Wuuthrad making the massive axe lighter and faster.

With a powerful battle cry, Talion charged forward towards the massive beast.

The great demon roared before it brought its massive sword easily seven feet in length down intended to strike Talion.

He rolled out of the way missing the powerful blade that struck the stone floor cracking it and singing it in flames.

Talion swung his axe back and struck the demon in the leg slicing its molten like skin.

The demon roared before it brought his sword down to strike Talion. He raised his battle axe and parred the massive sword. Had he not been in his perfect shape combined with the Beast Blood it certainly would have crushed his arms. He knocked the blade back and swiped at the stomach of the demon who back stepped letting it hit the air.

The demon with his other hand backhanded Talion sending him skidding back a few feet. A blow that would have killed any normal man instantly.

Talion using his axe as a stand pushed himself up before he gave an animalistic growl. He channeled some of his Magicka and summoned a powerful stream of lightning bolts at the demon who braved his forearm forward like a shield blocking the painful surge of energy.

He roared before his glowing mouth opened and sent a stream of pure fire towards Talion. The Dragonborn bolted to the side before sliding on the ground and hiding behind a massive column. The volcanic fire began to melt the column forcing Talion to roll to the side before shooting out a blue ball of ice out his hand.

The ball soared over the Balrogs head before it exploded and sent thousands of tiny ice spikes into the creature's stomach and face. Peppering him with ice spikes.

The demon growled in pain it slashed its sword in the air sending a wave of pure fire towards Talion who slide under the wave of fire and summoned a massive bolt of lightning and shooting it out of his fingers. The bolt of lightning struck the demon in the stomach and he fell on one knee in pain.

This gave Talion the moment he needed. The warrior ducked under the massive horizontal swipe of the Demons sword, lept forward and buried his massive axe deep into the demons side. He pushed harder letting the sharp battleaxe sink deeper into the crusty flesh of Balrog. He then grabbed a Daedric dagger from his leg and buried into the neck of the demon who bowled in pain before grabbing and throwing Talion hard against the cobblestone floor. He hit the ground hard and his head began to spin.

He was picked up again and thrown into a stone column smashing it to pieces with the force of his body. Talion slammed against the stone floor hard again. He winced in pain when he felt a cracked rib.

 **Several Hours Later…**

Talion wiped the blood from his mouth and winced in pain before removing a red spike that had impales itself into the side of his chest. He slowly turned his head and saw his legendary battle axe Wuuthrad was in pieces, his handle broken in two and chipped and broken. Only achievable by fighting the powerful demonic rock like sword belonging to Balrog.

His own body wasn't much different. A few of his ribs were broken, his right arm was broken, his left eye was bruised to hell, a deep gash mark on the side of his face. Blending in with the dried blood and fresh blood dripping from the massive head injury Talion received moments before.

His helmet was cracked in half and had flown free from its owners head after being backhanded. His chest piece was shredded and indented leaking out the crimson blood belonging to a severe gash across his head.

Talion used the chipped and burned blade of the broken Nightingale sword as a cane and pushed himself up. He ignored the pain and exhaustion that had enveloped him now.

He heard the sickening low growl of the demon and turned his gaze to meet the creature that had taken his entire family one day. The first family he had since coming to Skyrim and meeting the Companions. The first family he had not murdered in the Bandit Wars or gutted In the streets of Cyrodiil. Ripped from his arms once again.

The demon slowly got up. It too was in seriously bad shape. One of its horns was ripped off after being used as a mount and repeatedly stabbed in the shoulder with Talions swords. Its body was littered in gashes and cuts with glowing lava-like blood pouring out. Leaving a glow like lines across its body. Its right forearm was gone and now a stump cauterized by the Demons own volcanic like body.

It was coming down to sheer adrenaline and hate for Talion and bloodlust and fury for the Demon.

Talion cracked his neck and wiped spit and blood from his mouth before he dropped the broken Nightingale blade and reached to his waist and unsheathing his Daedric gladius. The menacing swords glinted against the blazing hot fires that had surrounded the two opponents during the fight.

"Come on you ugly bastard. I don't get all day." The Dragonborn's voice was thick exhaustion and his throat was burning from having inhaled so much fire and smoke.

The demon materialized a small short sword out of fire and dropped the one he had used earlier, now reduced to a short stump.

The demon roared one more mighty roar before it charged toward the Dragonborn.

Talon closed his eyes and concentrated. "Alright, last push make it count Talion. Talos guide my sword hand deep into this fuckers throat and let me watch him choke on it before I die."

He mustered all his willpower and energy into one final shout. Using it at this stage and with his massive amount of blood loss would be extremely dangerous but it was his last push.

Feeling his energy he snapped them open to see the giant behemoth of fire barreling towards him ground shaking under his mighty steps.

 **MUL QAH DIIV**

As the Thu'um left his lips The bleeding Dragonborn was suddenly enveloped in a glowing orange and blue ethereal set of dragon armor.

Talion gave one mighty Nordic Battlecry that would make even Ysgramor himself jealous before he bolted forward sword in each hand despite having a broken arm sending sharp pain signals towards the Dragonborn's brain. A futile effort as it was ignored. Only one thing mattered here. Sending this ugly demon back to the bloody bowels of hell.

Talion ducked under the slow slash of the demon's sword and screamed: "FOR SOVNGARDE!" Before he buried his swords deep into the belly of the demon.

The demon gave a howl of pain but Talion wasn't finished. He pulled them out violently before slashing them across his chest in a criss-cross formation. Each time sending a gush of wind as he struck with such speed and strength.

He ducked under the demon's sword again before he rolled through the demon's legs, he buried his swords deep into the back of the creature's ankles forcing it to fall to its knees. The demon was starting to panic and began to conjure Fire from its mouth and forcing more spikes to protrude from its body.

Talion ducked under the wild random stream of fire streaming all over the place. The spikes began to shoot out its back but the shields of Dragon Aspect stopped most of the damage. Talion leaped onto the back of the large demon and pushed himself up before he switched both swords in a reverse grip with one final scream he buried them deep into the nape of the demon's neck literally ripping into him.

The demon gave one final defiant cry before it hunched over and sunk into the ground. Talion feeling the blood loss and exhaustion hit him rolled over and hit the ground with a loud thud.

Talion only eye was battling to stay open, his body was numb and hurting all over but he was too tired

to do anything about it.

Talion could feel the darkness creep in slowly. He barely even saw when the large doors stormed open and in his friends were bolting towards him screaming his name nor did he barely notice Aela grabbing him in a hug and planting a kiss on his lips. His eyes closed and the darkness took him over.

 **Westeros**

 **289 AC**

 **7:00 AM**

Talion's eyes opened for a brief second. He could feel cold water touch the heels of his feet once covered in Daedric Boots. He could strangely smell saltwater and fish. He slowly tilted his head when he saw the muffled voices of what looks like a group of soldiers carrying swords strapped to their sides rushing over towards him. One of them was sporting a purple banner of some sorts.

' _Where the hell am I?'_ Was the only thought in Talion Blackfangs head before the darkness overtook him once more.

* * *

 **And Done. So what did you guys think of the first chapter? Did you like Talion? is he too OP? Boring, Weak etc**

 **Also should Talion have a pairing with a Game Of Thrones Female since he's going to marry into a house? Who should he have? What Castle should he have?**

 **What should his banner look like? I hope to see this story do well, see it as it goes, if it starts to become iffy and stuff I might do a rewrite and set during the Sacking Of Kings Landing but there are so many of those stories so I wanted to be unique. Anyway I hope yall like the first Chapter and tune in for more :)**


	2. Chapter 2

_**I Do Not Own Skyrim Or Game Of Thrones, They belong to Bethesda Studios And George RR Martin. Only here to support their work and improve my own writing.**_

speech/ _thoughts_

 **shouts/spells**

" _ **To be honourable one must have courage. to be honourable one must exercise self-control. All great things in the service of the Fatherland are**_ _ **honourable."**_

 _ **Hey Guys, Its been a long time lmao. I am sorry for the long period of inactivity, I was on a training exercise in Bulgaria for a few months (It went longer that I was originally told) and only arrived a few weeks back (in lieu of the COVID19 Pandemic, which I hope yall are doing ok in, hope yall are safe with your family and friends.) I have been spending the last little while working on my Uni papers(I know my Uni has not cancelled unfortunately lol) as well as my fanfics. In terms of this I have read through the comments and taken some time and made the decision to change the timeline during Robert's Rebellion, this gives me more time to work with the main storyline as well as the minor ones and flesh out the characters and make them feel realistic, something D &D failed to do lol. **_

_**I have also read the comments regarding Talion on his shout abilities and think it will be wise to use them sparingly, I like the idea of magic being less in this universe and not being as OP. Considering Lore wise, A Dragonborns shout was strong enough to shatter an island. Doesn't exactly fair well against individuals like Ramsay or Joffrey(last one maybe)**_

 _ **I want to focus more on him as a soldier with his service in the Legion as well as his experience in the Companions, Dawnguard, and his less favourable past (Thieves Guild, Dark Brotherhood)**_

 _ **Pawr: in terms of how exactly( I admit yes the shouts were nerfed and that's partially a safety net for myself as an inexperienced writer and the fact that you have low fantasy characters against a being that bends space-time and reality. In terms of physical strength, going through many realistic YouTubers I've watched trying to study medieval realism(Metatron, Skalligrim, Shadversity,) A single man using brute strength and surviving against 94 opponents (plus the archers) Is next to impossible, Sure he kills dragons and they are exponentially stronger but considering the many Skyrim stories I've read, killing Skyrim dragons (minus the legendary and frost ones) are pretty easy for a Demigod, if you want a more accurate Rep go watch Berzerk Guts 100 man fight and then come tell me Talion is a weakling. not even 5 Ser Arthur Daynes or 7 Gregor Cleganes could kill over a hundred experienced Ironborn raiders in singe combat.**_

 _ **I also did change the armour slightly, after consideration Daedric and Dragon Bone/Scale (Although super badass is just beyond overpowered compared to the I guess primitive lol weapons of Westeros. His armour will be the lighter/medium Nightengale (I Love this armour look and its still strong enough that he's not wearing crappy iron armour scale armour.)**_

 **Anyway, I hope yall are safe during this crisis and arent losing your minds during isolation lol. Take Care**

* * *

 _ **Chapter 2**_

" _ **Set A Higher Standard"**_

 _ **Westeros**_

 _ **283 AC**_

 _A blinding white light glittered in the pale snow. It seemed to be bouncing up and down, impatiently almost, like it was waiting for someone. "Everything is about to change Young Dovahkiin, everything is about to change." The blinding light spoke again._

 _A bloodcurdling scream of a child echoed through the darkened and eerie forest again. Talion eyes peered deeper into the forest. Just then the familiar screeching and scattering of legs made him turn to see the icicled fangs of a large ice spider jumping and about to sink into him._

Talion Blackfang's eyes shot open, the burning feeling in his throat and stomach returned.

 _Pain_. It was the first conscious thought that had entered Talion's mind. His head was spinning with dizzying spells, his vision blurry and sharp jolts of pain shot through his body like it was on fire. His nose which surprisingly had healed from its broken state still felt stuffy — the smell of smoke still lingering behind.

The soft cushiony structure he laid back on provided him slight comfort, but confusion. Confusion to why he was laying on a straw mattress bed instead of on the cold stone of the afterlife.

A gingerly hand pull off a soft fabric, he assumed was a blanket off, removing his source of warmth. The cool morning air brushed past his naked chest, in fact besides what he assumed was bandages covering a big portion of his body. He wasn't wearing anything but a loincloth.

The gingerly hands of the man touched just below his ribs and prodded softly. A sickening feeling in his stomach forcing Talion to lurch over and almost vomit his already empty stomach. As soon as his body moved over to the side he regretted it instantly as he felt the sharp pains of his ribs. "By the gods." A man spoke out as he tumbled back into his bedside chair in shock. "He lives?" The man muttered to himself in awe as he watched the mortally injured man sat up on his own, the blankets falling off his bandages covered chest. Talion rubbing his eyes glanced slowly to his right to look at who just spoke.

The man was in his early sixties with a retreating hairline of greyish black hair and tired green eyes staring at him in shock. He wore simple grey robes and carried a belt of supplies on his waist like some kind of surgeon.

Talion opened his mouth to speak but regretted it instantly when he began to cough violently. It dawned on him just how dry his mouth was, it felt tiny needles poking it. He tried to look for something to quench it, luckily, his mysterious voice came to his rescue and offered him a wooden cup of water.

Without hesitation, he grabbed the cup in fury and

downed the content. Talion didn't bother to check if it was poisoned, his main concern was quenching the pain and thirst in his throat. He closed his eyes allowing the cold liquid to soothe his burning throat. He cleared it a couple of times, washing away the taste of smoke.

"Inform the lord." The robed man spoke to his right. The sound of fabric swayed and a fresh gust of wind blew into the warm tent.

His heightened Werewolf senses perked up at the sound of metal rustling, like a sword being sheathed back into place. Seems he startled some armed men with his abrupt awakening. a few men began to whisper in the back. "By the Seven… how?"

"I didn't think it was possible when the patrol found him it looked like he crawled through the gates of Hell." A deeper voice replied.

"It shouldn't be possible," another man said. "he should be in bedridden for weeks, or dead even. He awakes after 4 days?"

" _4 days? Bloody hell… the demon must have really done a number on me…"_

The old man offered him another cup of water. He nodded thanks and drank as he inspected his surroundings. He was in a dark blue tent, a pavilion if he had to guess right. A bird-like insignia was sewn into the middle of the tent roof. The inside seemed to be outfitted like a medical tent. There were a couple of beds aligned in a row, all straw with a few blankets. There was a wooden nightstand on his bedside and sprawled out on top was a set of surgical tools and a wooden pitcher of water.

He noticed besides the old man there were 3 other men in the tent with him. All three wore what looked like chain mail and plated shoulders with winged iron helmets covering their heads. Soldiers if he had to guess right. Sewn in the middle of their chest was a blue falcon soaring against a white moon. All three of them carried longswords strapped to their sides and were eyeing him with awe and suspicion.

Talion stares back at them. They reminded him suspiciously of a military force. Like the Imperial Legion. And if their tense body language was anything to go by, they were itching for something.

The blue tent flap opened up suddenly and in walked 2 men. The first man was old, easily in his late fifties early sixties. Despite his old age and greying hair, he stood rigid like a man who had been in battle his whole life. His blue eyes bore into Talion and his aquiline nose scrunched up. The older man stepped forward, his hand resting on the hilt of his longsword strapped to his waist. Silver wings decorated the crossguard and a perched falcon on his pommel. The second man also stepped forward — He was much younger. Probably around 19 or so but showing signs of early stress and grief. The man stood much taller than his older counterpart, easily 6 feet on the mark. He had long brown hair and a clean-shaven face. The man's dark green eyes stared at the injured warrior, his eyes holding a certain level of sadness. He didn't have a sword strapped to his waist but he expected with the man's much bulkier built, he wielded a two-handed weapon. Unlike his companion, the swordless man didn't wear chainmail but what looked like boiled leather. He reminded Talion of a much younger Nord. Pale skin and a certain level of hardness suggested a cold climate. He wore boiled leather and furs and sewn in the middle of his chest was the insignia of a grey snarling wolf. Both men held a level of authority and nobility. Talion had to be careful about what he was going to do next.

' _By the gods,_ ' the wolf man thought, _'he's like a damn giant. He's bigger than Robert! Just who is he?'_ The man inspected every inch of the bandaged man. His stormy bright blue eyes held a level of power and strength he hadn't seen before, his dark brown hair was shaved. What stood out most of all was his size. They had to get a bigger bed for Talion when they found him. He was massive, taller than even Robert and bigger, there wasn't a shred of unhealthy fat, just a body sculptured from the gods themselves, minus all the scars of course. His chest had large gashes and marks, a spider-like web burn above his right pectoral, and on his chest, he had strange tattoos of animals and warfare alike. Those scars looked fatal yet here he was, In only a few days his life-threatening injuries had healed revealing only fresh scars. The healer thought he was a sorcerer of some kind.

The older man smiled revealing missing teeth in some areas. He adjusted the longsword strapped to his waist before he lowered himself to look at the injured man. "Hello young man, my name is Jon Arryn. What is your name?"

The man spoke in a calm voice, in a foreign accent. Talion was sure he wasn't in Skyrim. There was no way the man was a Nord, he assumed from his hardy appearance — a Nord would never speak so cordially. Talion noticed the man's body language, he was the only one besides the surgeon in the tent who wasn't preparing to fight the man. He was perfectly relaxed. The man is either the biggest idiot or the most carefree man he'd ever met.

"Nice to meet you, Jon Arryn." As each word left his lips it sounded gruff, like gravel. He hadn't spoken in 4 days. He hesitated for a brief second, despite the man's calm demeanour, he was in unknown territory. Revealing who he was right off the bat would be a very bad idea without knowing who or what they were.

He heard the sounds of ruffling and turned to his right to see one the guards step forward, his grip on his handle tightened. "That's LORD Arryn to you, Dragonspawn." He corrected threateningly, eyes glaring daggers at the injured Nord. Talion's body tensed at the word. There was no way they knew he was the Dragonborn. Only a handful of people ever got the chance to know his secret identity. He forced himself to relax, something else was going on here. "Relax, he meant no harm." Lord Arryn spoke, waving it off.

"My name is Talion, Talion Blackfang, Lord Arryn." Talion introduced.

Lord Arryn briefly flashed his companion a quizzical look. The stoic young man said nothing, his rigid cold eyes stared at Talion. Arryn turned back to look at Talion. "I'm sorry, but I don't recognize that house name. Where are you from?" Jon had to assume he was some kind of lord or lord's son. The prospect of a landed knight entered his mind but there was something about him that suggested nobility.

 _'House name, what?'_ "I'm from Skyrim…" he let the answer linger, hoping to elicit some sort of response. All he got was confusion plastered on the old man's face. "Skyrim… Tamriel… Nirn?" The confusion grew each time he got more and more generalized. _'By Sheogorath, where the hell am I?'_ Talion sighed in frustration. "Never mind, I seem to be having trouble remembering things, may I ask where I am Lord Arryn?"

"Well… you are currently in the medical tent near the Tridents River." Expecting those words to mean anything.

"Which is ... where?"

"Located near the Saltpans in the Riverlands."

Talion rubbed his eyes in frustration. _'This is really beginning to turn into a shitty day… week'_ he had to correct himself, remembering his four-day coma state. "I'm sorry my lord, but I don't know what this 'Riverlands' Is, is it near one of the Nine Provinces?"

 _'Nine provinces? What is this boy speaking about.'_ "No, the Riverlands is this section of land rules by Hoster of House Tully." He watched the same glazed over eyes that were filled with confusion. "One of the Great Houses of Westeros…" he added further.

Talion stopped the rubbing of his eyes and his eyebrows shot up. _Westeros_ — he remembered that name from his premonition or dream, the land he had to journey to. "Wait, we are in Westeros now?"

The man nodded. "Yes, do you recognize that name?"

Talion nodded which softened Jon's eyes in relief. _'I was beginning to believe he was a total fool or an amnesiac one.'_ "Good, we are getting somewhere. Do you know much about Westeros?"

The man shook his head honestly which Arryn eyes burrowed. 'Back to square one.' "Very well, you must be a foreigner then. Do you know how you came to be? My men found you bloodied and battered by the river, almost in the Strangers clutches no less." Bloodied was an understatement, the man was covered in deep gashes, blood and battered armour. When his men found the massive man unconscious they thought he was a some Targaryen lord, in the bits of armour they found it was no surprise why. Although the man was naked from the chest down, tiny pieces of his armour remained — a vambrace on his right arm, a broken boot, pieces of remains on the man's left fingers and finally the most menacing of all, the demonic helmet that was broken in half, leaving the right side of the man's face covered in dark black and veiny red with a broken horn peeking out from the side. When the men returned with the remains of the shattered helmet, Arryn's eyes widened in shock. Sure he had seen flashy steel helmets, Knights in tourneys always liked to flash their extravagance, but this was on a whole nother level. It looked almost demonic, what set him off was the material. He immediately sent it over to the camp blacksmiths but even then they couldn't find anything. It sure wasn't iron or steel. Even the massive and broken two-handed axe they found was unrecognizable.

Talion hands curled into a fist as the memories flashed back into his mind. Skuldafn, the Balrog, Sam and Sofie. "I… I was fighting someone. Someone evil and during the battle I was mortally wounded. I blacked out and woke up here." The story almost had no information but Arryn could see the man was exhausted. It was either sheer willpower or godly intervention that he was awake, much less speaking and sitting up.

Arryn noticed his companions' stoic expression and the question that seemed to be bouncing around in his head. It was practically written all over the man's forehead. Arryn sighed before he turned to the man, his calm and carefree attitude was replaced with a steely stare. "Before I leave, I have one more question to ask."

Talion noticed his change in attitude but remained neutral. For now, he'd learn who they were, clearly some regulated military force, and the fact that he was in Westeros and Skyrim was unheard of so far meant he was very far away. Talion waited patiently for the man's question. "Are you a Targaryen supporter?" The man's old green eyes glared at Talion like a hawk, never inch looking for any signs of deception.

 _'Who the hell is Targaryen? Fuckin hell… this has to be Sheogorath, damn bastard still pissed about the cheese.'_ "No…" Talion said with uncertainty. He was sure the right answer would have been "I don't know who they are." Especially since there was no telling if this Jon Arryn was a supporter.

Jon Arryn's hawk-like eyes lingered on for a few seconds before he smiled with satisfaction. "Very well, I'll come to check up on you later. For now rest. We can discuss more later."

Talion nodded. "Thank you Lord Arryn."

Jon Arryn spun around and nodded to the group of men before opening the tent flap, the stoic wolf followed by two of the guards followed after him.

The camp surgeon spent the next few minutes changing and removing the bandages of the more serious wounds that had not healed fully. Talion could see some kind of thick bandaging had been wrapped around his right leg and stopped just above his kneecap, a jolt of pain sent through his receptors when he tried to move his leg, he remembered he broke his leg at Skuldafn.

The surgeon grabbed the potato soup and rough roll of bread on the nightstand He began feeding the man mouthfuls of the lukewarm soup with the spoon crafted out of goat bone and some of the bread before exhaustion had taken over him. The healer placed a hand on the man's back and lean him back on the bed — tugged him in. He placed a cold damp towel on the man's forehead again allowing the now mild fever to cool down.

"Rest now, Talion. You need to let your body rest." The man spoke with a soft voice like he was talking to his own child. Talion nodded before closing his eyes. The man gently pushed off from the chair and made his way for the tent flap, the single guard followed after him leaving young Talion alone. _'Damn it, damn it, DAMN IT'_ Talion swore mentally. He punched the side of the bed angrily sending another jolt of pain through his body. The memories of Sam and Sofie crept into his mind. He didn't know if it was the exhaustion or pain, but he didn't fight back when tears began to form in his eyes running down his cheek. _'I failed them… I wasn't strong enough…'_ He sobbed softly before the exhaustion took him over and he fell asleep.

 **Outside the tent**

The two fingers exited the tent flap and made their way towards the main commander tent. "Jon, are you sure we can trust him? Leaving him in there like that, alone?"

Jon turned to look at his companion. "Come now Ned, he's not alone for one. We have guards posted outside the tent. Second, those injuries were real. No way he was faking that."

"That's not what I mean Jon… you saw what he was wearing, are we just supposed to trust who he says he is, which is a complete mystery."

Jon stopped and turned to his side placing a gentle hand on the man's shoulder. "Look, I know you are angry Ned, everyone here mourns with you. But don't let your anger for Aerys cloud your judgement. That boy was on the verge of death. I stared at him the whole time, he's either the world's greatest liar, or he's telling the truth. Only time will tell. We'll have a talk with Hoster and Robert when they get here. Until then, we'll have to trust him." With that, he turned back around and made his way to the tent. Ned followed after him.

Talion slept for the first time in a very long time, likely due to the sheer exhaustion his body went through. He awoke the next day early afternoon to the same treatment of the camp surgeon whose name he had learned was Thomas. Returning that afternoon the surgeon was again amazed by the sheer superhuman recovery rate of the large man.

Shortly after he joined again by Jon Arryn and the man who introduced himself as Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell. "How is he feeling Thomas?" Jon asked with genuine concern. Targaryen loyalist or not, Jon was an honourable man and no man deserved to die like that. "Well my lord," Thomas started. "I don't know-how… but he's survived the worst of it. I have never seen anything like it." He wipes his dried bloody hands with a towel before staring back at Talion like a rare artifact in a museum.

While Thomas did his magic, Jon pulled a chair beside Talion's bed while Ned stood at the foot of it. "How are you feeling?"

"Better, no thanks to you." He said with a genuine tone, the man had saved his life after all.

"Well, where were we…"

"You asked if I was a Targaryen supporter. I don't want to lie to the man who saved my life." This caused Ned to visibly tense and even Jon narrowed his eyes slightly. "How so?" Jon eyes the man with a calculative stare. His body language was alert but relaxed, his shoulders shrugged. But that would be expected of an assassin. "I don't know who the Targaryens are. I don't know what this Riverlands is, I'm sorry." He said with a frustrated face.

"What is this shit…" Ned muttered under his breath.

Jon pauses and eyed the man studying him. To his surprise the man was serious. "You are serious? You don't know about the Targaryen dynasty or the Riverlands?"

"I only know the word Westeros." He lied, geography was easy. He knew his lie was haphazard at best, but he wasn't about to reveal to the military commanders he was looking for Azor Ahai and stop the army of undead.

"Well…I thought people of Essos knew the history of the Targaryen lineage." He said with a tired expression. The impending battle looming overhead and the troubles with the Targaryens began to take its toll on the old man. "very well… the Targaryen lineage starts with-" he began to explain in short detail as best as he could. A short synopsis of the Targaryen lineage covering Aegon's Conquest, Maegor the Cruel, Blackfyre Rebellion and currently the reign of the Mad King Aerys. This House Targaryen was one of the forty dragonlords of Old Valyria and said to be able to tame dragons and have great resistance to fire. The last remaining dragonlord family. _'Could they be related to Tiber Septim or the strange vision of the dragons I saw?'_

He then went to go in detail about the rebellion, Tourney of Harrenhal, the kidnapping of Lyanna Stark, the Battle of the Bells and the current encasement of Stark, Tully, Baratheon and Arryn men as well as the few bannermen that followed. He knew Westeros had political intrigue but this was faring on the level of Skyrim's Civil War, Westeros was in an all-out war with itself. Fellow countrymen fighting countrymen and Rhaegar kicked it all off. It reminded him why he stayed out of the Civil War between Ulfric and the Empire and instead opted out to fight the Bandits In Morrowind. "And then we found you by the river. At first, my men assumed you were a Loyalist, Hell even a Targ' by the way you were dressed. They wanted to leave you out there to die, I thought against it."

"Why did you decide against that?" Talion spoke for the first time since all that info. His head was spinning as his brain sort through all the influx of information. "Maybe I thought if you were a Targ, we could use you for some information. Wasted opportunity." Jon said stroking his beard.

"Not the only reason though?" Talion prodded further. He needed to understand more about what was going on and who his mysterious saviour was. "Or the fact that the first patrol was screaming bloody river demon like a madman. At first, I thought they had gone mad, their mind acting up before a battle." Jon leaned back in his stool. "Imagine to my surprise when the second patrol dragged your unconscious body through the camp, a bloodied mess like you had been mauled by a lion. I did what any man would do and bandaged you up best as I could, Thomas said you would have died within the day. And here you are, 4 days later."

"Seems the gods favour you," Jon said with a smile.

' _Right…'_ Talion thought cynically. _'So much, in fact, that they threw me around like a damn puppet.'_ Talion began to rub his hands, soothing the pain and numbness of the volcanic spikes of the Balrog. "So what now?" He finally asked.

"Well… Lord Robert Baratheon and Hoster Tully should be here within the day, along with their forces. Our scouts report Rhaegar is marching this way from King's Landing with a massive army. That oaf means to end the rebellion single-handedly. But enough about that, what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Well, you said you were fighting someone evil. Can I ask why…?"

Talion jaw clenched and he gripped the blanket tightly. He closed his eyes trying to calm himself and the Thu'um that was brewing like a storm. "I see…" Jon said, noticing the hardened expression on the man's face. "I didn't mean to pry-"

"No, it's fine," Talion said, opening his eyes. "I can't keep letting my emotions get the best of me… it's a touchy subject, however."

Arryn eyed him and waited patiently for him to continue. Talion sighed. "Well… I guess I'm like you In that regard Lord Stark." He turned to look at Eddard whose eyebrows raised in shock. "What?" was all the stoic wolf managed to say.

"The evil I was fighting… I wasn't strong enough. I… I failed." He gripped the blankets tightly. "My family… they were killed. I couldn't save them."

Arryn leaned back. He wasn't expecting it. This wasn't a Targaryen, it was a boy, a young man with so much pain and experience, years more than he has.

Ned's eyes softened slightly. He watched the man stare at the blankets. Guilt was plastered on his face. 'He's just like me… he lost his family to a great evil.' It had been a few weeks since the Mad King has burned his father Rickon and strangled his brother Brandon. He wanted vengeance so badly. Staring at the injured man in front of him. "I'm sorry," Ned spoke up the first time.

Talion titled his head up. "I wasn't strong enough, I never want to see that again." He rubbed the silver bracelet around his wrist, a winged helmet with a silver hammer. He flicked his fingers back and forth. 'That's a nice design, I like the hammer." Jon complimented, the smithing was excellent.

Talion smiled sadly. 'Sam said the same thing when he first saw it.' "It is… it was a gift… now a reminder of my failures." He glanced up at the two. "Look, I don't know what's going on here really. There's a lot I still don't understand, but I'll be damned if I don't do anything…"

"What do you mean…?" Ned asked puzzled.

"You both saved my life when you didn't need to. You could have left me there but you didn't. I failed my own family, I won't fail yours. Allow me to fight with you, I'll help you get your sister back Lord Stark."

Eddard raised his eyebrows. 'Has he gone mad? He almost died and was on death's door for the last few days and now he wants to fight in a bloody war. He's either naive or stupid. Or both.'

Seems Jon Arryn felt the same thing. "Look, I appreciate the offer, but I can't ask someone so young to fight. You had your reasons for fighting for your family, but this is war. War isn't glamorous. It was bad enough when Ned and Robert got involved so young."

"So Young…?" Talion trailed off in thought. _'Young? What? I'm not that young, what is he saying-'_ his eyes landed on the silver bracelet which had reflected his reflection. He leaned closer and squinted as he looked. He felt the same height and weight but it seems whoever or whatever dropped him here had after-effects. He didn't look a day over 20, he didn't have his thick neatly trimmed beard and older look, he was no longer 27 years old. He rubbed the side of his face; a few days shaved, _'by Talos… What In Oblivion happened to me?"_

"Yes young. You almost died, I couldn't ask a foreigner to risk his life especially after coming so close to an early grave." Arryn spoke gently.

Talion rubbed his forearms in thought. For a brief second, he wondered if he was in some sort of dream but quickly dismissed that. The pain he felt earlier was very real. "Look Lord Arryn, contrary to what you may think. I've been a soldier my whole life, I live by a code of honour, to help where I can."

He turned to look at Ned Stark, "I owe you a debt, let me help you, Lord Stark. Lyanna was wrongfully taken and this King Aerys seems to rule with an iron fist."

He didn't know what Wars they fought in Essos but having been his whole life a warrior Jon knew when he saw a soldier. Despite his age, Jon could see Talion was a soldier, someone with unimaginable loss but still puts his duty and honour ahead of it. He didn't know how someone so young could have eyes like that nor the fatal scars that decorated his body, one thing he did know was the burning passion and warrior heart the man had. Jon glanced at his injuries. "Let's say you did, you are still far too weak to battle. Rhaegar's army will be here two days, the latest. Just yesterday you woke up and now you want to go to a bloody battle? Especially with that leg of yours." He gestured to the bandages wrapped leg which had been repeatedly rammed into stone column after stone column before being backhanded courtesy of the fire demon. "If I'm good in two days. How about then?"

"It's impossible-"

"Let's say it's not, would you let me?"

Jon Arryn sighed. _'This boy… he's even more stubborn than Robert. As if one of them wasn't bad enough.'_ "Alright, alright, if by some miracle you are healed in two days minimum, I'll let you fight."

Talion smiled. "Very well."

"If. And I mean this is a hypothetical 'if', we'll need to get you some armour and weapons… without even a chest plate it would be impossible to repair your armour as for your axe, I asked the best smiths to look at it but no one could tell what it was made of."

"No need. I have an extra set of armour." Causing both Jon and Eddard to raise their eyebrow. _'An extra set of armour? Is he some nobleman's son? Where did he get the coin for 2 sets of armour?"_

"Ok… well about your weapon-"

"I have the necessary resources, if I can borrow one of your forges that's all I need."

"Wait, you mean to tell me someone as young as you is not only a soldier with experience, but you know how to smith weapons?"

"And armour. In the army I served we were taught a variety of different skills. I learned smithing growing up and I had a knack for it."

 _'This boy is one of many talents.'_ Jon Arryn thought. "Very well, when you are feeling better just let one of the guards outside know. I'll have Thomas bring you

Some food and some fresh clothes."

Jon stood up from the stool and made his way towards the tent. Talion called out to him. "Ebony."

Jon peered back around with a questioning look. "The axe." He began to explain, gesturing to the massive two-handed axe leaning against a wooden table. "Its name is Wuuthrad and it's made of Ebony, a volcanic rock-like substance… stronger than steel."

' _Stronger than steel? That's a bold statement,'_ if it was true that puts his armour at a king's ransom easily. If his armour was truly stronger than steel, what human could leave him in the bloody mess they found him.

Jon waved the injured young man a farewell before he walked out followed by Ned. They had to get back to the war.

A half-hour later a Stark soldier brought Talion a fresh batch of clothes and placed it on the table before walking out. Alone again, he waited a few moments before he reached out and threw the blankets off him. His upper body was covered in bandages — stopping just above his elbow. His wrist was wrapped in a smaller pair. His eyes followed the bandages covering his chest and stopping just below his belly button. He could feel some sort of healing ointment on his skin, no doubt placed by the surgeon. His eyes glanced down at his right leg still wrapped in bandages. Having been thrown violently against a stone column repeatedly by a 14-foot demon would leave any man crippled for life. He tried to wiggle it, see how bad it truly was since he knew he wasn't crippled. Almost immediately a jolt of pain went through his body. He gritted his teeth. _'Definitely a sprain at the very least. Damn leg' he cursed mentally._

Truth be told, it was a miracle Talion was alive much less moving about. If any normal man has suffered the same fate and by some miracle wasn't killed, they would have been bedridden for months, crippled for life being the most serious fate. He swung his legs off to the side gently, wincing in his right leg. The Dragonborn placed a hand on the nightstand and using it, pushed himself up. He faltered once or twice before he found solid footing again.

He noticed a small brown bag in the corner of his eye. It was his knapsack. Strange he thought. _'I thought I left it on Odahaving's back.'_ He grabbed one of the straps and placed the knapsack on the bed and lifted the flap exposing the contents. First, his hands found the necklace holding one of Alduin's fangs. Even being one of his smaller teeth it was still massive, longer than his middle finger. He placed it around his neck, tracing a finger on the tooth, it seemed almost like a lifetime ago he was a young soldier, struggling with the horrors of war and finding a new purpose.

Next, his hands pulled out a medium healing potion discoloured bright red. What he really needed was 2 experienced healers which would work his body back to normal in a few hours, but the potion would at least help his superhuman healing abilities to speed up the many burns, cuts and broken bones his body no doubt suffered during the brutal battle against the Balrog. He uncorked the potion and brought the vial to lips and downed the contents. The taste had a strange fruity sourness to it, but it did its purpose and almost immediately he felt the effects coursing through his body, no doubt helping his body repair itself. Adrianne's Cauldron really had the best potions in Skyrim.

With a new sense of rejuvenation, he set on his new task. Limping over to another table he grabbed the brown pair breeches, a set of fur boots and a brown sleeveless homespun tunic. He quickly equipped the clothes carefully, making sure he didn't strain his body until the potion had settled in completely. He placed the fur boots on his bare feet. Talion eyes landed on the strange walking stick leaned against the table. No doubt given to him by Jon to help him walk. He hated having to feel so weak, it wasn't something he felt in a long time. but he would need the support; At least for now. Grabbing the stick and fragments of Wuuthrad, he made his way back to the bed and grabbed the knapsack before stepping out of the tent.

As he exited the sun almost instantly struck his face with light, his eyes narrowed as they adjusted to the new environment and rays sunlight. When his eyes became more clearer they spotted two guards standing side by side the tent flaps. 2 soldiers belonging to House Arryn. They eyed him suspiciously but said nothing.

His eyes glanced around as he took his first sights of Westeros. He looked to be in a field of some kind, green pasture all around. He noticed It was early afternoon judging by sun location shining from above, a few white clouds sailed in the distance. The air was fresh and cool, he could smell the scent of meat cooking, roasted pig if he had to guess right, and metal being forged.

In each direction, he looked there was a tent after tent stretching for leagues. "I wish to head to the forge."

The two men said nothing and gestured behind him. The trio made their way down the camp. It was truly a sight to behold, Jon had told him there were 14,000 men in total, with Robert and Hoster Tully bringing an extra 16,000 with them. Surrounding him on all sides were tents of all kinds. A tenth of the total force was Knights so most of them were common folk that slept outside, Knights were luckier and had their own tents, many of them even having personal servants, then there were the lords, with their massive pavilions, structures as big as a house and decorated in all kinds of colours and sigils, In fact everywhere he looked there were different banners, red, yellow, green, blue, white, black, orange, purple, and on these colours were sigils of all kinds, stags, wolves, castles, swords, deer, lizard, eagle, bear, fox, owl and many others.

Talion limped for a few more minutes, flanked by his two nameless guards. Men were standing around talking, men glancing at maps and he saw many of them in groups practicing their sword fighting, spear fighting or with maces.

Most took no glance to Talion, they had more important things like a war. But it was hard not to stare, Talion towered over all of them, covered in bandages and built like a bull. He was an anomaly and everything about him screamed foreigner. The few that noticed spoke quietly, staring at him with awe and curiosity. Their voices masked by the sounds of men shouting, hammers pounding away on anvils or horses galloping, Talion still heard them clear as day thanks to his Lycanthropy abilities.

"Is that him?" One of the Knights wearing an orange scale ringmail spoke, he had a sigil of an orange fox on a field of green.

"By the Seven, he's fookin' massive. He's like Aegon the Conqueror if the man had brown hair." A knight wearing yellow chainmail spoke leaning on his 8-foot spear.

"I piss on the Targaryens. But Aegon was a legend. This twat limping around is more like Baleor the Blessed." The man howled and a few men surrounding him joined in.

Another knight on the other end sharpening his longsword with a whetstone spoke. "They say some of Lord Arryns men found him bloodied by the Green Fork. Though he was a foul demon." He replied snickering at the last part.

"Doesn't look like much now, Lord Arryn should have left him to die. Ain't no tellin' who he is." The orange-scaled knight spoke.

Another smaller porty man, a commoner what looked like it spat on the ground. "Who does he think he is, doesn't he know we're about to go to battle. It's no place for some crippled cunt."

"The man's probably never killed a man in his life."

Talion ignored the talk pressed on for a few more minutes before they finally arrived at one of the public camp forge stations. A single stone erected forge stood in the middle, next to it stood an iron anvil on top of a tree stump, tools of all kinds decorated the table.

"Here." The Arryn soldier said pointing to the station. Talion walked in and placed his knapsack on the table.

The two guards shuffled in so they weren't in the middle of the road and stood on guard watching him curiously.

Talion stared at them for a brief moment. Their hardened eyes bore into him with a steely gaze. They were clearly tested warriors, that much was certain, more recent if he had to guess right. No doubt they could hold their own in a fight. Talion placed the fragments of Wuuthrad and the broken handle on the table before pulling out his supplies, leather strips, smithing tools, and the famed Ebony ingots, so rare and coveted they were, the Empire actually banned the mining of these treasured metals. The dark black ingots glistened and almost seem to sparkle in the hot rays of the afternoon sun. One of the guards noticed this and raised his eyebrows, staring at the Ebony ingots with curiosity. It was not common to see such dark metal unless it was Valyrian.

Talion placed all the necessary materials neatly before he set on the task of making the forge hotter. The average iron or low-quality steel paled in comparison to the raw strength and brittleness of Ebony.

Using his mastery of smithing and many years of crafting he heated the forge until it was the right temperature. No doubt if any man tried to use regular steel or iron now they'd certainly damage their weapons or armour. Which had not gone unnoticed by his two guards nor the few men near him who were watching with curiosity.

With the forge ready he worked on the first step. He grabbed the strange metal container and grabbed the few vials of strange liquid. He poured the green one in first, followed by 2 yellow vials which began to sizzle and have a chemical reaction. The stale smell of sulphur filled Talion's nose but the man ignored the foul smell. Due to the toughness and volcanic properties, to properly temper Ebony, the material must first be quenched in acid before it can be forged, this is to remove the flame resistance that Ebony naturally has.

Talion grabbed the ingots off the table and dropped them into the metal container, it sizzled as the ingots bathed in the caustic fluids. Talion's eyes raised slightly to see the two guards watching with frowns on their faces. A few men-at-arms huddled closer to the forge to watch the strange smelting and forging techniques.

"What is he doing with the ingots?" A slender Arryn levvie barely a man asked quizzically.

"I think… I think he dipped it in acid?" A middle-aged Redford man-at-arms replied shocked.

"Is he half-witted? Won't acid destroy the steel?" The Arryn conscript asked with raised eyebrows.

"I don't think he's working with steel."

Talion used his own set of metal tongs and pulled out the ingots now dipped in caustic fluids. He threw them into the forge and waited.

Two hours had gone by, and a dozen new men, a few knights and mostly levies had joined to watch the man work. It seemed he had gained a small audience. It was a mesmerizing sight to watch someone very experienced in smithing work, such strength behind each hammer strike, and for a few in the audience who not so subtly showed it, the smithing wasn't the only thing they were paying attention to, rather the man himself. Talion had removed his homespun shirt due to the heat and exposed all his muscles and scars. Despite the many bandages that decorated his arms and chest, the veins in his forearms bulged and his biceps tensed as he struck the hammer against the anvil.

Talion walked back to the forge after sharpening his two Nightingale Gladiuses while he waited for the Wuuthrad fragments to heat. He pulled a massive hunk of Ebony ingot from the forge. This would be hammered into the double-sided axe head. The long handle of Wuuthraad had been easy enough to repair and fix, especially for one so well mastered in smithing. In a half-hour or less, he had left the Ebony handle drying on the table. Next would come the hardest part — working the axe heads. Ebony was very strong and durable, it required a lot of strength just to be able to hammer the Ebony into shape. But shaping it was a different story. He had to pound each piece into its original thinness and shape which according to lore, the select few that had forged Ebony weapons would take a few days or more. Talion would be done in a few hours.

Talion grabbed the waterskin pouch and uncorked it, taking massive swings before he poured some on his head. The lukewarm water cooled him from the blazing heat of the forge. He turned slightly behind him and grabbed the shirt wiping away the sweat from his brow. The heat was intense as the audience gaze that watched him, though they had stayed a good few feet back due to the heat, they were close enough to him. The fires raged hotter, unable to deter the man known as the Dragonborn.

Talion turned back around and held the hunk of Ebony in place and hammered down a few strikes before the sounds of a dozen footsteps approached his direction near the forge. With the sun-facing directly at him and shielding a dozen men. As they gained closer Talion's eyes could make up the sigils. The men on the left, 4 of them had a coat of arms displaying a strong red castle on a field of white, with a red embattled border, the men on the right 3 of them held a coat of arms of a white-winged chalice, on a pink field, that left the group in the middle — 5 of dressed in white ringmail and plate, their coat of arms were three black ravens each clutching in their claws a red heart on a field of white.

They marched until they stood a few feet in front of Talion. The lead man in the middle stepped forward. He was a thin lanky man, standing at 5'8. His shoulder-length brown hair waved ever so slightly against the light breeze. He had a handsome face but not much else was interesting. His armour was very flashy though. White armour as pale as the snow and a cream coloured cape that went all way to his ankles. Decorated on his armour were perched ravens on the shoulder pauldrons, and a single black raven displayed on his chest plate. His armour also seemed to be needing some repairs, the right shoulder pauldrons were dented, like someone took a mace and smashed into it, scrapes and cuts decorated the breastplate.

Talion eyes noticed their stiff body language but he nodded a greeting. "Hello." Even though the greeting was said so casually, Talion's foreign voice was deep and smooth.

The lead man eyed Talion up and down a couple of times, his face expressionless except when he was looking at Talion's chest, which seemed to change into a strange gaze, whatever that meant. His gaze lasted a moment before his expression changed into annoyance. "What are you doing?" He asked simply.

"Um…. I'm working the forge?" He stated as if it wasn't simple enough.

That only seemed to anger the man more. "Yeah, I can see that… mind telling me what you're doing at MY forge?"

Talion left eyebrow raised. ' _What is he talking about?'_ He turned to the one guard who approached him. "Apologies Ser Corbray." The guard spoke. "Lord Arryn ferried this forge to this man a few hours ago."

Ser Corbray turned his head to look at the guard. "I ask, why Lord Arryn didn't take this up with my father who requested this one for my use today?" His face changed into a smug expression. "I need to repair my armour if I'm to slay that dragon cunt Rhaegar in battle. They won't be singing songs of him when I cut his head off."

A few snickers went around the men in Talion's crowd. "Rhaegar is one of the best fighters in Westeros. You'll be cut in two." A man shouted out.

"QUIET!" He shouted, his eyes narrowed at the crowd. He turned his attention back to Talion. "What are you still doing here? Are you deaf?"

"My hearing is fine. I'm gonna' remain here though. You can have the forge after me." He lowered his head again and started hammering.

Corbrays eyes narrowed, his smug expression replaced with a snarl. The lead man decorated in white and red ringmail stepped forward, his hand gripping the longsword strapped to his waist with the pommel of a red castle. "You insolent cur, do you know who you are speaking to?"

"No. Should I?" He replied back casually.

"This is Ser Lyn of House Corbray, eldest of Lord Jyne Corbray and heir to Heart's Home." One of the Corbray men-at-arms replied proudly as if it was supposed to mean anything.

"Ok. Well nice to meet you Ser Corbray, but if you don't mind, I'd like to get back to work. I'll be done shortly."

"Why you little…" the man spoke again by Lyn cut him off. "What's your name? I don't think I recognize you."

A portly man from the winged-chalice stepped forward. "He was the man Lord Arryn's scouts found by the Green Fork. The demon."

Lyn's expression softened into a smug expression. "Ah, the bloodied man they dragged through camp. I heard some called you a demon spawn conjured from Rhaegar sent to kill us all... Looking at you now, I don't know what all the fuss was about." He said with a slight snicker.

"Very well, which house do you belong to? We can settle the differences there. Perhaps your father would like words, considering your lack of respect."

The ringmail man turned to look at Lyn. "I heard from the guards he doesn't have any. Somebody from Essos. Blackfang was what I heard."

Lyn turned to look at him with a raised expression, then he glanced back at Talion who was still as the night. "Wait… you mean to tell me he's not of noble birth or even a hedge knight? he's here by himself." He began to howl with laughter. A few of his guards laughed with him.

"Bet your mother was a dumb whore that bedded some silk merchant. Explain your lack of manners." Lyn spoke.

"Tell me, did your mother sell you off to pay for her gambles? Or were you just tired of her sucking cock every night, and needed a change of scenery?"

Talion's gripped the tongs tightly, his stormy blue eyes stared at the man. The Thu'um starting to brew like a storm, begging to be let out. "It's ok, I promise I'll pay her back for her services after the war. After I've given her a few bastards of course." He smirked.

"You should kneel in front of nobility, and address him as m'lord." A Corbray man-at-arms added.

"Well Ser Corbray, are you going to stand here all day, talking out your ass? Shouldn't you be preparing for your fight, m' lord?" The sarcasm dripped from his lips as he spoke the last part.

"In time he'll meet his fate. I might start with you first. It would be a shame to end you with one swing, especially after all the effort Lord Arryn spent on you. I don't know why really, you aren't even from here. A foreign cunt who would shit himself before he even stood foot in a real battle. Am I wrong?"

Talion grip on the hammer tightened. He did not have the patience nor the energy to deal with vain hot-headed pricks. Younger Imperial legionary Talion would have stepped forward and crushed his chest with that hammer right there and then. Even as his Thu'um radiated, threatening to lash out as if it was saying, "let me out, I'll tear him to pieces" Talion lowered the hammer.

"I thought so. A coward with no honour."

Ser Lyn smirked, stepping forward, his hands gripping his longsword as he tried to size up on the injured man. It didn't last long, as Ser Lyn's eyes started to water from the heat of the forge and his face showing signs of discomfort. Lyn stepped back a few feet and cleared his throat.

A faint smile formed in the corner of his lips watching the man fail at his intimidation tactics.

"Ironic, coming from the man who fought against his liege lord merely a fortnight past." A man stepped through the crowd as he spoke. " I thought the Knights of the Vale were the best and most loyal. You must be the latter then." The man had a youthful, barely 18 name days, he had an attractive clean-shaven face, he was tall and lean muscle hidden under his ringmail and plate armour. His sigil was a white tree, with a black sword at the base of the tree on a field of black. the young man adjusted the longsword on his waist, a silvery blade with the pommel of a white tree and stepped forward.

"Rodrik Forrester." Lyn greeted sourly. "And I suppose you're the expert? Tell me, when was the last time you were in a real battle and not fighting in a tournament or drunk fights at the brothel?"

"Come over here and maybe you'll find out you little shit." Rodrik barked back.

Lyn eyed Rodrik with a steely glare and then back at Talion. He chuckled to himself. "The tree boy has himself a new baby chick. Gonna' nurse him back to health? The crippled whore's son and the tree man. Now ain't that a tale lads." His men howled with laughter. "Come on, I got better things to do. See you on the battlefield Blackfang, or if you can actually walk to it." He snickered as he walked with his men.

Talion cocked his head to face Rodrik. "I suppose a thank you is needed for the save."

"No need, that pompous prick has been going off about slaying Rhaegar ever since we arrived. Someone had to put him in his place." Rodrik said before spitting on the ground.

Talion nodded and went back to hammering the axe head of Wuuthraad. Rodrik stood eying the man curiously, noticing not only his intimidating physical size but the sheer scars decorating his body. Finally, he spoke, "I don't think I've seen you before. Who are you?"

"My name is Blackfang, Talion Blackfang." Talion introduced.

Rodrik's eyebrows raised, it was a strange name to be sure, but rather stranger was his accent. He couldn't quite figure out the man. Growing up at Ironrath, he often interacted with ship captains from all parts of the world. Talions accent was one he had not heard before. It was a thick northern accent but at the same time, it sounded like one you'd hear in the Westerlands. "I don't recognize that house name. Are you a hedge knight?"

Talion shook his head. "No, I'm not from here. From a faraway land."

Rodrik glanced at the man's many bandages. It then donned on him who the man was. "Wait, were you the one they found bleeding by the Green Fork?"

"Indeed."

Rodrik smiles to himself. "For a war camp, you were the only thing many talked about. Some said you were a dragon conjured by Rhaegar to kill his lordship, Robert Baratheon."

Talion stopped hammering and eyed the man cryptically. "I assure you, I'm no dragon."

"As you say." The Rodrik said shrugging before turning his curiosity onto Talions smithing. his eyes followed the axe handle being hammered into shape and towards the table where two shorter swords were laid neatly.

Curious, Rodrik walked around and inspected them with a careful eye. He's never seen such a blade before. Sure, he'd seen his fair share of shortswords: His home of Ironrath was constantly attacked by Ironborn, many of whom still used shortswords, usually with a round shield or a small axe. But it was rare, ever since longswords were created. Shortswords were ineffective against the tough strength of steel plate or even chainmail for that matter. Unlike longswords that were effective for poking in the gaps of plate mail. The guards on the sword were small, not big enough to do any half-swording of any kind. The sword had to be either Valyrian steel or the man welding it would have inhuman strength, both of which did not seem off when it came to the man's appearance.

The swords were smaller than a longsword or even an arming sword for that matter. It was double-edged diamond-shaped, around 35-40 inches if he had to guess right. The guards were golden with what looked like tiny scales of a reptile carved into it, the hilt of the sword was solid black with a ribbed-like design. The blade was solid black, darker than the night. Tiny serrations like mini shark teeth decorated the side. No doubt would tear flesh and cloth alike. He leaned closer and his eyes almost widened. They were glowing! It was difficult to see because of the sun's rays, but if one looked closely the blades seem to give off a greyish hue to it. 'Are my eyes playing tricks on me or are his swords glowing?'

"By the gods, what are these swords?" He eyed Talion before they flashed back to the swords on the table.

Talion stopped hammering and walked to the table. He grabbed one of the swords by the blade and handed it to Rodrik who grabbed it slowly. He was shocked by the weight. It definitely felt a lot heavier than it looked, but it was still so much lighter than a broadsword or a longsword for that matter. His hands gripped nicely around the ribbed hilt. "They're so light." He stated.

"They're called Gladius" Talion began to explain.

Rodrik repeated the word under his breath. The word was foreign to him.

"In the army, I served in, they were the primary service weapon we used."

Rodrik stopped ogling the blades and turned to Talion with a strange look. Using shortswords as a primary weapon wasn't unheard of. He heard the Unsullied of Astaphor rumoured as one of the best armies ever made had short swords, in fact, their swords would be called a letter opener compared to these. But they used primarily spears, a sword like this in open field did not have the reach that a longsword had, which was a huge disadvantage.

"You're probably wondering why we would use something so small." Noticing Rodrik's perplexed look, "In truth, on a one-on-one fight reach was a problem, yes, but we used these swords in conjunction with our rectangular shields called a Scutum. Fighting in close proximity and unity."

Rodrik's eyes landed on the second identical sword. "Yet, you have two of them?"

Talion nodded. "I have trained effectively to dual wield both of them. I haven't been in a shield formation for many a year."

Rodrik eyed the man curiously at how he described his experience. The man was a few years a man, yet, held himself like one that had been fighting for decades. Then there was the duel wielding aspect. Something that was rare, even in Essos. The only time he had heard of dual-wielding was the age-old duel tradition of some Reach lords duel wielding a small dagger and a longsword or the Fighting Pits in Essos. Neither one ever wielded two identical swords, especially short swords. Dual-wielding was incredibly difficult to master and not to mention incredibly dangerous. It required great finesse and against a plated knight you would want a mace, spear or longsword.

"Dual wielding? Ha, aren't you a strange one. But I'm curious, what is your sword made of, to give such a weird aura about it. Are they magic?" Rodrik kicked himself mentally as those words left his lips. Magic swords were children's stories, they didn't exist. But he couldn't help but wonder, the swords gave off an otherworldly appearance.

Talion chuckled mentally. From his limited knowledge of Westeros, it seemed this land primarily focused on innovation and technology. Magic was almost nonexistent, and by Rodrik's shock at seeing the Nightingale Gladius, swords with any enchantments were unheard of. _'If he thinks this is amazing, wait till' he goes to Morrowind. Some of those bastards had swords with trapped Dremora souls and could summon creatures of the night.'_ He didn't much want to tell the man his swords were crafted from a magical substance called Void Salts and infused with incantations. "They're crafted from a volcanic-like substance called Ebony. Because of its brittleness, Ebony often glows when in contact with heat."

Rodrik eyed the man but said nothing else. The explanation sounded much better than what he had in mind. _'Magical swords,_ ' Rodrik facepalmed mentally, _'What are you a boy, Rodrik? They don't exist.'_

Rodrik ran his finger along the non-serrated edgy of the sword gently, thinking the sword was dull, which proved to be a mistake when it immediately cut across his finger causing blood to drip out. 'Son of a…" he began to curse before he stuck his finger in his mouth.

Talion chuckled. "Careful, they aren't completely sharpened yet, but they can still cut you."

"If they are this sharp while dull…. I'd hate to imagine what they could do sharpened. If it wasn't for the sheer rarity, these could very well be Valyrian steel." He chuckled at the prospect. A houseless knightless injured man carrying two Valyrian steel shortswords. One sword was enough to buy a minor house. But two? Not even Tywin Lannister had two Valyrian Steel swords.

"Well, I should get back to my father. But it was nice meeting you Talion. I hope to see you on the field. I almost pity those Targaryen loyalist if they fought against you." He handed the sword back to Talion who placed it on the table.

"Thank you again for the save, Ser."

"No need. Let me know if those twats give you trouble again. I'd love to sort Lyn out. And just call me Rodrik."

"Very well, Rodrik."

Talion watched the man walk back with a few of his house guards. Talion worked the remainder in silence hammering away at the anvil on the axe head. He flipped the head on its side and hammered away again. he grabbed a small sharp-pointed tool of hardened metal called a burin and began engraving the eloquent designs of the screaming elf into the head, this process took a good 30 minutes. Satisfied with the design, he grabbed the tongs and picked up the Ebony axe head before dipping it back into the forge and heating it, he waited for it to turn red hot before he pulled out the axe head and quenching it in an oil bath. The bath began to sizzle and he pulled the axe head out before he tempered it coolly. Another hour later and the battle-axe head was ready to be sharpened.

He walked over to the grindstone and bent down before he placed it against the wheel and began to sharpen it into shape, the fullness of the axe slowly became sharpened as he moved it around sharpening the edges. He ran his hand around the edge of the axe head and felt its uncanny sharpness. Satisfied he walked over to the long handle that laid on his bench and glued the axe head into the handle and rested it right above the sharp point at the top. He made sure it was secured tight and wouldn't slip off before he exited the forge. Standing in the middle of the camps, he began to twirl Wuuthrad in glittering arcs, testing its strength, his extensive years of smithing paid off and Wuuthrad was whole again.

By the time Talion had returned to his tent, it was night time. The camp was mostly empty, most of the army returned to their tents most likely. The few outside were camped together in groups sitting by the fire. Fireflies danced amongst the tents like wandering stars. His nose picked up the smell of roasted pig and cooked venison spiced and savoury. It was beginning to dawn on Talion how hungry he really was.

Making his way back to his tent, he passed a woman, a camp follower as they were called, she giggled and raced past him, naked beneath the dark cloak, her drunken pursuer chased after her.

A few men were still practicing swordplay by the fire, men cheered, men laughed as they began to sing.

Talion arrived at his tent to a lukewarm soup, chicken soup and a leg of lamb. He ate in silence before he returned to his bed. His eyes glued to his arm where Sam's bracelet was. Even in pitch darkness, his eyes could make out the fine detail of the hammer and winged helmet of Talos. Finally, exhaustion overtook him and he dreamed of a much different life.

* * *

 **And Done, It been a push to get these chapters out but I thank you all for holding on and being so patient. I will be following the canon from before the events of GOT. How did yall like the rewrite so far? A lot of it is recycled text from the previous write, but I've changed some things including adding the Forresters from the Tell-Tale Game (really loved the story). Anyway, Next Chapter will deal with the Battle of the Trident.**

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 **Build his own: 13**

 **Moat Cailin: 7**

 **Sea Dragon Point: 4**

 **Widows Watch:**

 **Sigil:**

 **Alduin Head: 17**

 **Imperial Dragon (Imperial Legion Sigil): 9**

 **Dawnguard Sigil (I forgot the name): 1**

 **Golden and Black Wolf Head on a field of black: 1**

 **Anyway, the next chapter will be uploaded within 15 minutes or so. ;)**

 **-Achilles**


	3. Chapter 3

_**I Do Not Own Skyrim Or Game Of Thrones, They belong to Bethesda Studios And George RR Martin. Only here to support their work and improve my own writing.**_

speech/ _thoughts_

 **shouts/spells**

" _ **Violence is a precious resource. We civilized the whole world using violence. That's the history of civilization: the incremental suppression of parasitism through the organized application of violence.-Curt Doolittle**_

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

 **"Victory Through Violence"**

 **Westeros**

 **283 AC**

Talion awoke early the next morning, yawning, he climbed out and stretched his muscles in the dark tent. His body had healed nicely over the night and already he felt better. Talion glanced at the flap of the tent. It was still early dawn judging by the lack of noise outside. He reached into his knapsack, drank another healing potion before getting dressed and walking out of the tent. He informed the guards, two new ones on shift duty he wanted to go for a run. Their necks craned — most likely from sitting on the chairs all night. Empty Dornish wine laying on the grass. Their groggy eyes stared at him like he was crazy. How anyone had the energy for going on a morning run was beyond them, especially in the morning cold. Luckily their shift was over and the two guards from before would be following Talion on his long morning run. His ran went from one end of the camp to the other, his two guards struggled to keep up with him, one of them even at one point wanting to call the horses to follow. Talion arrived a good 45 minutes later at his tent, sweaty and awake after his good workout.

The camp surgeon arrived followed by Jon Arryn who was eager to see how he was doing. "How are you feeling?" Jon asked while the surgeon shuffled closer to the bed eager to check on the man. "Much better. I went for a run this morning, it still hurts to some degree if I put a lot of strain on it. But I feel fine."

The surgeon almost scoffed at the man's supposed bravado. It didn't matter how tough he was, almost dying wasn't something anyone could recover in 5 days. He lifted the bandages on the man's right thigh, to the old man's shock, the leg was completely healed only leaving a large scar, the broken leg had mended itself. The surgeon leaned back in his chair, his eyes starry with amazement. "I… I don't know how you did it, but your leg seems to be fully healed."

"Are you sure Thomas? It hasn't even been a week?" Jon asked incredulously, he was no healer but even he knew injuries like that that don't heal in a week much less a day.

"I do not jest about medical matters m' lord." He checked the bandages on Talion's body and found the same thing. Only scars and a nasty burn on his left shoulder in the shape of a sword. Like someone had used a sword of pure fire and sliced his arm. "If I weren't a man of science and the fact you were sitting here right in front of me. I'd bet you weren't human." He said, shaking his head in amazement.

Talion shrugged. "Guess I heal fast." Causing the man to scoff like 'yeah, I'm sure you do'. He helped remove the bandages from Talion's chest, arms and legs each time the life-threatening injury which he helped sow and clean a few days ago was now a fresh scar. He still left some bandages on the man's shoulder burn, even his miraculous healing speed couldn't heal such an intense burn. Thomas even joked that the man was burned by dragon fire. There was still a deep gash across his lower abdomen which was still bleeding. But overall the man for being unconscious for 4 days and almost dying twice looked to be in perfect health.

"So…" Talion began.

"So… what?"

"My injuries have been healed. And you said if I was healed I could fight."

Jon's eye lowered and met Thomas who had an equally amused expression, he turned back around and smiled, his smile grew into a soft laugh which grew into bellowing laugher. "You really are a strange one Talion Blackfang. Very well, I'll give you permission."

"You won't regret it," Talion assured confidently.

Jon shook his head still laughing. "You won't be winning any battles on an empty stomach. Rest now. Some training would do you some good later. Even someone like you would need some training against the full might of the Targaryen army."

Talion had to play the ignorant foreigner. Already he was gaining the attention of everyone here. Until he understood everything that was going on and who was who he had to play it safe. In truth Talion didn't need training, spending years in one of the most hardened and regimented armies ever created and fighting beings like Miraak or Alduin made him second to none. "As you command." He replied obediently.

The surgeon replaced the bandages still left on his body before promising to bring him food. Talion spent the morning doing stretches and breathing techniques to bring his Magicka back under control. Ever since arriving his Magicka reserves were in a fluctuating state of frenzy. It made sense really, Magic was not common in Westeros, it was at a low, the very act of Talion in Westeros with his vast magic reserves and Dovah soul was not normal.

A few hours later Robert Baratheon and Hoster Tully arrived with their forces just in time, for it seemed Talion would not be getting his training in.

Talion sitting cross-legged on his bed, eyes closed and hands held stiffly in his lap. He was meditating — trying to control the forces of Magicka in his body. His ears perked up at the sound of blaring warhorns. The horns sounding off, wild and urgent. Through the open tent flap, Talion could see men's boots charging through the mud and horses galloping through the camp. Men shouted In every direction. Swords clattered as they found their way to their masters.

One of the guards entered through the tent flap, he was fidgeting with the straps in his armour and trying to place on his chainmail coif. "Get on your armour." He ordered hastily.

"What's going on?" Talion asked eyes still closed, he was focused, guiding the strains of Magicka in his body which became cluttered and disorganized. Westeros had affected his Magicka system greatly, Westerosi men were not made to carry the reserves of Magicka he had. "Rhaegar Targaryen is marching upon us." Without a second word, he bolted out the tent flap and went to join his liege. The battle was here.

 _'Time to see what a Westerosi dragon is made of.'_ The Dragonborn opened his eyes, he fixed the last guiding strain and his Magicka felt clear. Like a pool of water that had been blocked now flowing clearly.

In the day that Talion had been conscious, It dawned on him just how ill-equipped he arrived in Westeros. Had he known the land was teeming on war and calamity so soon, he would have packed way more gear, hell even brought a cohort of Imperial Legionaries, battlemages and a couple of armoured Trolls as tanks. Talion certainly didn't want to go into battle unprepared, especially since his Daedric armour was shattered. And without the proper resources nor knowledge on Westeros astrology, there was no way of knowing if they had blood moons. Luckily Talion had his spare armour with him. He closed his eyes, concentrating his Magicka before he reached out into the swirling blue orb that appeared and out pulled his Striker armour — a custom set of Nightingale armour. The armour glowed grey-black in the mostly dark tent.

Wasting no time he quickly equipped his armour and fastened the necessary lacings and straps. His hands worked with haste the cape on his back and the set of throwing knives across his chest diagonally. Talion threw on his final piece of gear, the Nightingale hood, darker than night herself, swallowing any shred of skin. The swirling black eye holes were the most menacing of all, he lowered the face mask so his eyes were visible again.

Next was his weapons, he fastened his set of 80 Ebony arrows onto his back, the blackened fin-shaped fletchings poked out from behind his shoulder. He fastened the two Nightingale Gladius securely on the black leather sheaths attached to his back, another odd practice considering its impracticality and the finesse required to use it. Finally, he walked over and wrapped his hand around the freshly forged Wuuthrad. It felt good to have the famed axe of Ysgramor himself back in his possession. The carving of the screaming elf on the axe would be not painted in Elvish blood today, but man blood.

Talion stepped out the tent flap, the entire camp was up in frenzy. Squires rushing over to help their lords and knights with their armour, men-at-arms buckled their sword belts as they ran, and knights in either half plate or full plate lumbered over towards their horses, their steel-toed boots cinched against the stirrups. Even during the chaos, a few inexperienced men-at-arms stopped and stared at the large man dressed in dark black armour. A few even had nervous glances on their faces. This was not the same limping foreigner they found a few days ago. The man stood regimented, towering over lesser men. A snarling wolf was sewn in the middle of his armour with dragon heads on each shoulder. The man gripped the massive two-handed axe with one hand and made his way towards Lord Arryn.

Jon Arryn was dressed in thin plate armour, in hand was a longsword and a kite shield on the other. Jon's eyes widened for a brief second and he even gripped his sword tighter until he remembered only one man was that tall and would look so foreign. "Ready for battle Blackfang?" He addressed the towering giant ignoring his otherworldly armour.

"As much as I can be."

"I know we didn't get a chance to train you, but I'm sure you will be fine. Just keep your head down and don't be afraid." The man said eying him like a father would his son going off to war.

"Where do you want me, m'lord?"

Arryn noticed his new addressing but said nothing of it. "We will be on the right flank." He explained. "Stark and Baratheon leading the vanguard and Tully leading the left. You'll be in the rear, so don't worry. I won't put you on the frontlines." Jon said trying to ease the worry and fear the young man would be feeling. Had he been paying close attention he would have noticed Talion was as cool as ice."Understood, I'll make my way over there." Talion bowed his head and made his way towards the other men-at-arms of House Arryn.

Jon watched the man walk towards the stationed armies. He left without a word. There was no fear in his voice, no asking of words of encouragement, no boastful claim of glory and honour. It was beginning to don on Jon the capabilities of this man. This was a man who had crafted his whole life on the battlefield. Fear was not in his vocabulary.

It took him a good 15 minutes to arrive with everyone else. Already the massive army of men gathered near the Tridents River. Talion watched as forms of archers prepared stations of arrows, pikemen formed in squares and behind them were the bulk of the army men-at-arms armed with sword, spear, axe, and levies with their poor clothing and cheap leathers and chain paled in comparison to the tenth of knights who sat proudly on their warhorses massed together like a giant steel fist, clean plate and chain mail glistening proudly in the morning sky, their war banners flapping wildly like they were just as excited as their owners.

As soon as Rhaegar and his army crossed the Trident, they would be met with the full might of 3 noble houses all eager to fight for their king Robert Baratheon.

The blaring of eardrums and foemen's war drums echoed through the field, the sounds of men marching and the hooves of horses pounding in the dewed-grass and splotches of mud near the river.

Talion was amazed at the level of readiness and discipline the armies could muster. It was no Imperial Legion but it was still an amazing sight for any man. Talion rested Wuuthrad on one shoulder and made his way down the section of Arryn men. He wasn't sure where Jon wanted him, especially since he had no specific role. He was no archer, no poor levy or men-at-arms, no knight or lord son, he was just… there. He pushed past row after row, Jon said that he wouldn't put him in the front since he expected the man was inexperienced. He watched a few men in plate mail with forgetful banners positioned near the back. Inexperienced noblemen or a poor lords son if he had to guess right. Those too afraid to enter the battle directly, he watched one of the knights, a lad no older than 17 lurching over and emptying his breakfast while another was praying and sobbing softly.

When the battle started they would linger at the edge of the battlefield away from the action, or charge in haphazardly and be killed. No matter the battle there were those too afraid to fight, those too hot-blooded to see reason and those who were bloodthirsty. Few men had the iron-will and the sense of discipline to be neither.

Talion stood in the seventh line in the front. Behind two lines of pikemen and five lines behind men-at-arms and levied farmers. Even among the large formation of troops Talion towered over all of them and stood out like a sore thumb. As Talion waited, whispers began to form around the formation, some men prayed to the Old Gods or the New, some whispered to each other, making crude jokes or boastful claims, some men were sobbing softly, trying to pep-talk themselves.

A few sobs made him turn to see a young man in poor leather jerkins carrying a chipped iron spear, his arms were lanky and skinny. A lad of 17 years with barely any facial hair. "Please Warrior, Maiden, Father, please protect me. Don't let me die today."

"Be strong kid, the gods are watching today," Talion spoke, his gruff and deep northern accent cut through the man's whimpering prayers. The boy no bigger than five and a half feet tilted his head up and noticed the imposing figure. "W-Who… What?" Was all he could muster. Sure the young man had snuck into his fair share of tourneys and seen the knights in their steel armour, many had horned helmets or coloured helms of all different colours but the man before him was nothing like them. His armour almost seem to be alive, and glowing!

"Don't be afraid." The giant said, "stand strong." He then tilted his to stare at the young lad wearing an arming cap. His swirling orbed eyeholes staring at the man with an intense gaze. "What's your name?"

"David, Ser. " The skinny boy said meekly.

Talion reached out a hand. "Nice to meet you David, my name's Talion." The young boy eyed the black-armoured man and meekly reached out his hand and shook it. Talion's massive calloused hand wrapped around the young boy's smaller hand, it felt like being grasped by solid iron. "Nice to meet you, Ser Talion."

Talion released his grip which the young boy was thankful for. Even though Talion's handshake was very light, it still felt crushing. He was sure if the man used his strength he could crush the bones in his hand.

Talion waved the young boy off. "I'm no knight, just call me Talion."

David's eyes raised, he was sure the man was a knight, maybe the third or fourth son of a lord, the way he stood, spoke and commanded himself suggest royalty and experience. Not to mention the expensive and worldly armour he wore. "Very well, Talion." He said, his lips started to quiver as stared at the open field and the river in between. He was trying his hardest not to be afraid. _'Don't be afraid David, fight hard._ ' His father would say. But what does his father know of war? He was a simple baker from Gulltown who's biggest accomplishment was serving pie that was used in the festivals sometimes at the Eyrie. Now he had to go off to a bloody war, a simple baker's son who had a few weeks of practice fighting straw dummies and watching knights in Tourneys. Now he was thrust neck-deep and fighting the Loyalist army of Kings Landing and against the Dragon Prince Rhaegar Targaryen himself.

"It's ok to be afraid."

"I'm not afraid." Replied David Back defiantly.

A glance from Talion that simply said "yeah right" made David lower his head. "Alright. Fine"

"Just think about what makes you happy. A girl back home, your family, your favourite baked goods. And keep that in your mind the whole way."

David closed his eyes and smiled. He remembered the smell of bread being baked in the oven, the pies his father made, and listening to his older sister who would tell him stories of famous knights. David smiled and his whitened-knuckles loosed its grip on the spear. "I see my father's bakery."

Just as Talion was about to speak again the horns and drums on the other side of the river blared loudly. The sounds of men marching unison, their boots crunching against the ground like a chorus, the sounds of hooves galloping like thunder.

"It's them." He heard an Arryn levy whisper in fear under his breath.

The army of Rhaegar advanced on the Green Fork. 40,000 strong, composed of royal Targaryen soldiers, Dornish soldiers and those Stormlands who decided to support Rhaegar. They stood in crisp formation, and in the very front his eyes could faintly make out the dark black and ruby-encrusted armour of the crown prince himself, Rhaegar Targaryen.

No word was exchanged between the two sides, not that there could have been, being so far apart, with the wind dashing against the banners violently, like it was waiting impatiently for the ensuing battle. No powerful monologue or glorious speech. This was real war, such notions were beneath them, their blades would do the talking. With the loud blaring of trumpets, Robert raised his spiked iron warhammer and his black warhorse charged down the Fork, the man's warcry booming like a wild beast, his friend Ned Stark followed close behind as well as the rest of the army.

Cheering and hollering echoed around Talion, some men gave it their all, some nervously cheered. Talion simply gripped his axe and let out a thundering Thu'um that had been built upside him for a long time. The power of the dragons. It dwarfed Roberts warcry with a resounding boom like thunder. Some men even dropped their swords in momentary fear. Talion simply charged down the fork with the rest of the men.

The battle had raged fiercely for many an hour, the clangs and clashes of steel on steel, the galloping of horse racing across the field and the screams of men dying all around. The waters and banks of the Trident ran red with blood, the gory crimson colour washed away the clear colour of the water and splashed as men smashed into each other, trying to kill whoever was in sight. It was truly a sight to behold, the history books always paint battles as magnificent and glorious, which sometimes is the case, but it often omits the messy details, the mangled bodies floating down the river, bits of flesh and limbs laying on the ground and the smell of men shitting themselves as they died all around. Those at the Trident would forever be etched with the memories of the bloodbath.

Throughout the battlefield, men were performing acts of bravery and heroism. The Kingsguard Jonothon Dory, slaying an Umber previously, now engaged in combat with Jon Arryn, Greatjon cleaving Through a handful of Dornishmen laughing like a madman as he used his size smashing through anyone, the shrewd Roose Bolton smashing through a handful of Targaryen men-at-arms with his spiked mace, the flayed man, a symbol of House Bolton carved into his armour, no doubt a frightening sight, Lewyn Martell the Prince of Dorne slicing through a handful of Tully knights with his curved sabre, and the famed Kingsguard Barristan Selmy fighting 10 men on his own, his sword danced with legendary prowess, flawlessly he executed a Baratheon knight with a counter-riposte, his white cloak dancing around the bloodied battlefield.

And through the thick of the right flank was the otherworlder himself, Talion Blackfang, hero regarded as a living god in Tamriel and the bane of dragons, the man who made the impossible possible. For it was with good reason, where a normal man would face a challenge against a single man or two at a time, a skilled knight a handful and a highly skilled warrior maybe 10 or so. Talion was carving through dozens of Dornish and Targaryen soldiers alike, smashing and carving through them like a great beast. Bards and taverns would sing no doubt about the brave acts of chivalry and honour performed on the battlefield, a pretty sight to behold. But it would be anything the case for the foes of the black-clad giant, the armies of Westeros would be no match for a man who killed dragons before breakfast. Despite his human physical appearance, at that time if one would describe the battle by historians, Talion Blackfang looked anything but human. With his large imposing frame and darkened black armour covered in sticky blood and the head of the snarling wolf sewn into the middle of the chest dripping droplets of blood; It was truly a frightening sight.

The right flank was pushing hard against the predominantly Dornish forces, trying to gain an opening but being pushed back against the furious resolve, Arryn men and soldiers of the minor houses of the Vale clashed together, though many of inexperienced and young men had all but been slain, fought on. Only one man was having luck, slowly gaining a footing, a truly amazing and frightening spectacle, behind him laid the bodies of dozens of slain Dornish and Targaryen who were foolish enough to challenge the Dragonborn in combat, he was surrounded, and yet, Talion carved a path solo, his massive two-handed axe Wuuthraad danced and twirled as it sliced and ripped apart the enemy, the screaming head of the elf dripping bits of blood.

Talion sidestepped a spear from a Dornish man-at-arms and backhanded the warrior into the ground, just barely coming around to parry the longsword of a Targaryen knight and smashing him to the ground, he swung his axe back and brought it around slicing a handful of Targaryen men, his razor-sharp axe cutting through their riveted chainmail and boiled leather.

Despite the carnage, the Loyalist army pushed forward determined to kill the demon that was carving through them, the giant sidestepped, parried, dodged, carved, slashed and tore them apart, 40 more Targaryen soldiers and Dornish men were killed. Cutting an opening on the right flank which Talion took and pushed through.

He carved through 4 more, a Dornish warrior clad in the standard-issue burnished scale armour, enamelled with copper and silver, head wrapped in yellow and black spotted desert scarfs, the blazer red sun and spear of Dorne proudly displayed, a warning to whomever it concerned. The Dornish soldiers waited for the blow, prepared to parry it with his spear, what the poor man didn't prepare for was the superhuman strength behind the attack nor the sharpness of the axe.

The axe cleaved through the spear, along with the man's armour and his body, splitting him into two. He turned to see a dozen Targaryen men hesitate as they watched the gory display. They backed away slowly and Talion began to step forward, his bloodlust beginning to brew, his dragon soul calling out for more destruction.

The sound of galloping horses made Talion turn sharply, axe raised, prepared for an onslaught of Targaryen knights, he was instead met with dozens of Arryn, Stark and Baratheon men-at-arms and a handful of Arryn knights, more importantly, Ser Lynn of House Corbyn and his comrades from the other houses. The man had rallied a massive force determined to push the right flank which had surprisingly been opened somehow. Talion spotted Rodrik Forrester on his white horse with a handful of Forrester knights and light infantry.

Their horses' galloper before halting before Talion. "I'll be damned," Ser Lynn said with a shout, "the injured pup is alive." he smiled with bloodied teeth, face covered in blood, his helmet all but knocked away during the battle.

Talion lowered his face mask and spit out a wad of blood before he pulled it back up. "About time you showed up." He growled back.

Lynn ignored his quip, his eyes finally noticed the dozens of dead Targaryen and Dornish soldiers lying dead on the grass, many of them carved to pieces like a great beast had torn through them. There wasn't a single Stark, Tully, Baratheon or Arryn soldier insight, or anyone from their side. Littered on the ground were loyalists, easily matching in the nineties. "What the hell happened here. Where are our men?"

Talion reached out and pulled a Daedric throwing dagger that snuggled deeply in the throat of a plated Targaryen knight. "All dead. Could have used some help earlier."

Lynn's face faltered slightly. _'Is he really insinuating he slew all these men? He must jest.'_ "It's dishonourable to lie to the son of a lord. To boast so arrogantly about your own strength… I'll deal with you later." Lynn unsheathed his new sword called Lady Forlorn — a smokey-grey longsword with ripples through the blade, the typical design of a Valyrian steel sword. A gift from his father who was injured by a Dornish knight in the company of Lewynn Martell, the Dornish Prince. "Come on, let's go show those Dornish goat fuckers the might of HOUSE ARRYN! FALL UP!" He roared before charging forward, his loyal bannermen and the rest of the party charged behind him, kicking up dirt and mud as they charged, which directly just happened to be in the direction of Talion's face. "Really starting to hate this man," Talion muttered under his breath as he wiped the bits of mud from his face.

He noticed Rodrik and his men stayed behind, the northerner trotted up beside Talion. His tired eyes bore into the man. "Did… did you really do all this by yourself?" Rodrik could hardly believe it. He heard his fair share of supernatural feats by knights before, but none of this capacity. He even noticed the burning of charred corpses and patches of burnt grass, like some kind of dragon, breathed fire here. He heard the screams of frantic Dornish men about some kind of fire breathing man-demon through the ranks, but seeing it and hearing it was completely different.

"Eyes on the task at hand Forrester," Talion replies back tersely. Filled on bloodlust and Lynn's treatment, he wasn't in the mood to speak.

Rodrik opened his mouth to say something but decided against it. He nodded before he charged after Lynn, his men not far behind.

Talion gripped Wuuthraad tightly, and took a breather watching them gallop further down the line intended to cut down the Dornish Prince and his dwindling forces. Despite the losses, the battle still raged on fiercely. His eyes noticed an older man in a pale white cloak and golden armour, one of the Kingsguard if he remembered correctly. The older man despite his age was fighting flawlessly against a handful of Stark men-at-arms and a handful of Baratheon knights. The man seemed to dance with grace as he sliced through them like cake.

His eyes carried further until it landed on the towering figure known as Robert Baratheon, even as far he as was, the towering giant of six and a half feet was easy to spot. In hand was his bloodied iron warhammer riding on his black stead, behind him his best friend Ned Stark longsword in hand, his greatsword Ice was no use on horseback. They smashed further down the middle, mind focused on one single person.

A thump punched against his back with an uncomfortable _pang_ , like something had punched him in the back, he cocked his head around to see an arrow had smashed into the back of his shoulder blade but could not pierce the strength behind the Nightingale armour. Talion turned around further to see a lone Targaryen archer who had wandered too close to the battle, the man was a young lad in his early twenties. He wore a light variant of the Targaryen armour, blackened leather and an arming cap. Another _pang_ into his chest, the arrow again pierced but not deep enough to touch skin. The impact still hurt nonetheless.

Talion growled in annoyance only further antagonizing the archer who pulled another arrow from his quiver, he notched it poorly like a novice and fired again. The arrow found its mark but again only stuck against the man's chest. "What the hell?" The man called out in frustration, stopping, he hesitated to draw another arrow. They seemed to be strangely ineffective, not even able to pierce, which would be the case if it was plate mail, but he wasn't wearing plate. The archer watched as the man reached to his upper chest where the arrows had stuck, he ripped out both of them with one hand and crushed the shafts in two with a single hand, dropping the splintered wood on the grass below.

The archer watched the arrows fall before his eyes landed back on the lone warrior. The warrior's swirling eyes bearing into him with fierce resolve. Nervously, the archer gulped before he nocked another arrow hastily and aimed for his head. The lad fired with speed he never thought possible but to his shock the black armoured man had snaked out his free hand, uncoiling like a snake and caught the arrow in mid-air.

The archer froze his mouth wide open, the man had caught the arrow with his hand mid-fire. Unable to move, he could only stare at the armoured man who stood there, not moving an inch, hand resting at his side. Arrow broken again.

Then something happened which he would never forget in his short life. The lad had never been one that was lucky, an orphan from the ranks of Flea Bottom. Never finding a decent job or coin for that matter. Today he may have been the unluckiest man in Westeros.

The sounds of high pitched chirping began to form out of nowhere, he scanned around when it became louder and louder, trying to find the source that made his ears hurt, until he noticed the flashing light coming from the warrior. He turned back around and his eyes widened to comical proportions. The man's two-handed axe began to spark at first, before strange blue sparks danced across the handle and enveloped it, streams of blue energy snaked around the axe, the high pitched chirping sounds of birds intensified, then it finally hit him, he had heard those sounds before, on a rainy day. It was the sound of lightning! The man was literally channelling blue lightning across his weapon. "By the Gods…" The archer muttered in shock and took a step back. This was no longer a regular battle and this was no longer a regular man. He was not fighting some vagrant knight, he was fighting a god.

He dropped his bow and turned around to flee but it was too late. As he turned the man smashed his axe in an uppercut motion into the archers back. The force of the lightning-infused blow smashed into the archer killing him instantly and sending his corpse skidding into the dirt, 20 feet from its original spot.

Talion's eyes began to glow fiercely like fire, all his pent up anger, the loss of his children, the anger at the gods for it, Corbray, the sheer bloodlust of his dragon soul, it all mixed together like a storm. The residue sparks danced across Wuuthrad angrily.

Talion charged forward towards the force of Arryn and northern men clashing violently with the Dornish right flank.

 **Somewhere else on the Trident**

Robert was growing tired, even with his love for war and killing, the battle raged on, his forces pushed fiercely against the main detachment of Targaryen loyalists. One of the Kingsguard Jonothon Darry was struck down by the fierce Ser Bryden Tully also known as The "Blackfish" dressed in his blackened plate and ringmail forged in the shape of scales from a fish. The Kingsguard was no match for the skill behind the Blackfish.

Rhaegar the crowned prince thrust his blackened longsword into the throat of a Tully knight, knocking the dead man of his horse, his deep purple eyes — a sign of the Targaryen lineage landed on the antler-helmet monstrosity known as Robert Baratheon. "BARATHEON!" Rhaegar shouted out. Even though all the chaos, they were close enough to hear each other.

Robert crushed the chest of a Dornish men-at-arms, the Dornishman's light armour was no match for the iron warhammer nor the man behind it. His bloodshot eyes scanned for the one who called him out and then he noticed the blackened knight.

Robert's eyes narrowed and his blood began to boil. The beautiful Rhaegar they called him. Decorated in his fancy blackened armour, the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen decorated in rubies on his chest plate. Golden ringmail poked out from under his blackened armour and his famed dragon helm — decorated in gold, orange, and red silken streamers, like they were flames, as if that made him any less a dragon. The pitiful ponce.

"WHERE IS SHE?" He shouted before charging his warhorse towards the river. His voice boomed with intensity.

"SAFE FROM YOU!" Rhaegar replied back venomously, his white warhorse galloped towards Robert.

"I SWEAR IF YOU DID ANYTHING TO HER!" His voice boomed with furry as he charged.

Rhaegar ducked under the intense swing of Robert who nearly took his head off, simultaneously his blackened sword glanced off Roberts's armour, only making so much as a scratch. "You give her back!" Robert roared again, his horse already turned around and charging towards the Targaryen prince.

Rhaegar swung his horse around and galloped down the river towards Robert, his horse kicking up water with intense pounding as he tried to meet his opponent's speed. But Robert's fury was too much for the prince and as soon as they met Robert's iron warhammer struck the silver-haired prince square in the middle of his chest with such ferocity Rhaegar flung back off his horse and slammed hard into the river which no doubt cushioned his fall a bit.

Rhaegar helmet began to fill with water and his head spun with dizzying spells from the impact. Though the water was only ankle-deep, Rhaegar struggled to one knee. A few moments later the dizziness was starting to dissipate, leaving a frightening image of Robert and his destrier charging towards the dismounted prince again.

Rhaegar's eyes widened and immediately his training kicked in. He pushed up and tried to find his sword in the water which had been knocked out of his hand during the impact. Panic started to envelop as he tried to splash and search through the murky bloodstained river. _Thud, thud,thud, thud_ the pounding hooves of Robert's black stead inching ever so closely. As Robert with his warhammer raised, swung down to strike the prince. His bloodied hammer only caused water to splash wildly and then a loud crash as Robert smashed face-first into the bloodied bank.

Rhaegar at the last minute found his sword just as Robert was on top of him. With all his might, Rhaegar rolled to the side dodging the strike and slashing at one of the front legs belonging to Robert's horse, cutting clean through. The now three-legged horse wailed in pain as it tumbled down into the river with Robert smashing face-first into the river.

Robert hit the ground hard with a resounding _thump_ , his vision blurred as he hit the ground.

Rhaegar pushes himself from the river. His muscles burned and ached from fatigue. He walked over towards Robert who has wiggled himself into his back, unable to move his right leg, his foot being pinned by his horse who had fallen unconscious from blood loss.

Robert's vision finally cleared after a few moments, he glanced around to look for his opponent and finally noticed Rhaegar limping towards him.

Robert's eyes peered around trying to find his warhammer. He began to flail his arms and push himself up. _Clang -_ the sound of Robert's left shoulder plate bumped into something hard and metal. Curious he cocked his head up, his warhammer laid above him, out of his reach.

Robert strained himself up trying to grasp his hammer. Rhaegar inched ever so closer, Robert cursed as he tried to use his free leg to push the horse off his foot, only making minor progress. Rhaegar would be on him before he would get free.

Panic subconsciously filled Robert as he went back to the only task he could do. Get his hammer.

He wiggles and pushed up trying to reach it, after a few more tries his fingers barely just managed to reach it, slowly he used all his weight and tried to finger the handle closer to him. His muscles strained and burned, ignoring the pain he used the last of his energy.

He fingered the handle ever so closer to his reach, Slowly the handle inched back down.

The footsteps were closer now, Robert cocked his head back around and saw Rhaegar a few feet from him. "It's over, Robert," Rhaegar said in between heavy breaths. "Lay down your arms and surrender."

"The day I surrender to the son of a Targaryen whore is the day my house crumbles," Robert said distracting Rhaegar from his real task at hand. A few more times, a handful of fingers gripped the very bottom of his handle.

"So be it." Rhaegar raised his blackened sword and swung down.

Just as the blade was about to make contact with Robert's head, Robert shifted his body weight completely to the left, dodging the blade that struck the grass. He wrapped his hand around the warhammer and turned back on his back, straining his body up he swung it around smashing into Rhaegar's helmet knocking the man down into the ground.

Rhaegar's dragon helmet flung from its owner's head and bounced down into the river with a splash. Rhaegar spat out a wad of blood as his head wrung with intense pain. Had he not been wearing his helmet, Rhaegar Targaryen the beautiful prince would have had his beautiful face crushed like a melon. Slowly, Rhaegar got up again.

Robert used the momentary distraction and pushed his foot free from his horse and used his hammer as a cane pulling himself up.

Sparing not a second more, Robert made his way towards Rhaegar who had recovered from the strike and was rushing towards him. His beautiful hair was now drenched in blood and sweat, pearly white teeth now bloodied, his purple eyes bore down on Robert with an intense gaze.

The two met on top of each other, steel met iron, shields all but knocked away, only leaving a flurry of sword and hammer. Each opponent tries to make an opening but to no avail. Robert's antlered helmet having been knocked off mere moments earlier, allowing Rhaegar to strike Robert's nose with the guard of his blade, bloodying it and causing Robert to step back in pain. "Bloody bastard." Robert hissed in pain.

"ENOUGH ROBERT!" Rhaegar called out.

"ENOUGH?! It'll be enough when you give me back my Lyanna." He roared back. "Why did you take her?"

"Because I love her." He said holding his longsword near his chest. His defiant eyes bared down on Robert. "And because she loves me."

As soon as those words left Rhaegar's mouth, anger and hatred enveloped Robert. "YOU LIE!" He screamed, with a sudden surge of energy Robert barreled towards the Prince, smashing into him and tackling him into the river.

Rhaegar landed on his back hard with a thud, water splashed all around him. Suddenly he thumped harder into the water as a heap of extra weight landed on top of him, his head submerged underwater. Robert sat on top of him, hands wrapped around Rhaegar's throat as he held him underwater, choking him violently. "GIVE LYANNA BACK!"

Rhaegar began to squirm and struggle underwater as his life force slowly drained away. He tried for a moment to scratch Robert's eyes, his body screaming out at him to survive. Robert just swatted his hand away and slammed Rhaegar's head into the shallow water.

Rhaegar struggled frantically until his right hand brushed past something sharp, his dagger! Without hesitation Rhaegar hand rushed towards the dagger sheathed on his leg, pulling the blade out he leaned in and rammed the small knife just below Robert's plated chest and into his gut.

Robert grunted in pain as the blade dug into him, loosening his grip on Rhaegar's throat and was met with a steel-toed boot courtesy of Rhaegar knocking him back.

Rhaegar's headshot out from underneath the water, mouth opened as he gasped for breath, trying to fill his lungs with air. Hand soothing his throat as he coughed. Noticing Robert getting back up, he crawled towards the bank and grabbed his sword and rushed towards Robert who merely sidestepped the thrust and rammed his armoured fist in Rhaegar's jaw, sending blood and teeth into the water.

Rhaegar fell back down in the river and Robert stood over him. One hand clutching his stomach where he had been stabbed the other gripping the iron warhammer with such ferocity it almost seemed to vibrate. "And now the Targaryen reign ends." Robert spat. Raising his iron warhammer his stormy eyes filled with hate and fury. This was it, his Lyanna. The woman he had loved, the women that meant everything to him, wrongfully taken and raped by Rhaegar. His Lyanna, defiled.

Rhaegar reached out weakly, despite the intense pain, his lips started to move as he spoke. "Wait, Robert," He pleaded, "Wait."

Robert said nothing and brought his hammer down on Rhaegar's chest, smashing into it with such fury — the expensive rubies that encrusted his chest flung into the air, scattering in the river.

Rhaegar's chest caved in, and he collapsed to the ground, lungs punctured and he struggled to breathe as he suffocated. Rhaegar could only watch as Robert brought his hammer up to deliver the killing blow.

 _'I'm sorry Lyanna…'_ Rhaegar thought as he watched as Robert brought down the hammer.

The Dragon Prince Rhaegar Targaryen was no more.

Robert collapses onto his back, exhausting taking over him, he could only lean in and watch as some Stormland knights charged into the river determined to grab the valued gems, it didn't matter if it was a bloodied battlefield or in some city; Treasure was a treasure.

The loyalist army noticed their liege lord body floating down the river, dropping their blades they turned and ran as fast as they could. The battle was over. Robert Baratheon has won.

* * *

Talion joined with the forces of Hoster Tully and the Knights of the Vale swung back around killing as many stragglers as they could. In a matter of minutes, the royal army was in full rout.

Talion pulled out his axe from a Dornish soldier's chest; turning his head, he noticed Rodrik struck down his own Dornish man-at-arms. The last straggler they had.

Rodrik wiped the blood from his sword with a rag and trudged over towards Talion who was kneeling on one leg. "Are you well Blackfang?"

Talion head spun around startling Rodrik who had assumed the man had passed out. In reality, Talion was using some of his magicka to heal his wounds and recover his stamina. "Yes, I'm fine."

His ears perked up at the distant sounds of hooves pounding away. Judging by the speed and number of hooves, it was a large force and they were urgent. Talion stood up in haste and gripped his axe.

A handful of knights noticed his alert stance including the young Forrester. "What is it?"

"Incoming horses, a lot of them," Talion said.

Rodrik gripped his sword tightly and gulped. This was not looking good. Though they still had a decent number of men, those men were exhausted and could not stand a second wave of attacks. The pounding of the hooves got louder and closer until a force arrived through the clearing. Numbers easily standing at four thousand or more.

Talion prepared to channel his Thu'um which he had already used more than a handful of times during the battle. He spotted their banner. Two blue stone towers separated by a bridge on a field of grey. Talions Thu'um rumbled and just as prepared to release it and tear apart the charging force, Rodrik released a sigh of relief.

Turning, Talion saw the rest of the Vale Knights and few northernmen sheath their swords. "Finally." Rodrik smiled. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the puzzled expression that seemed to appear on the faceless man's mask. "Lord Walder Frey of the Twins," Rodrik began to explain, "bannermen of Lord Hoster Tully, our reinforcements."

Talion nodded and lowered his axe, he stood watching the charging force galloping towards them, completely unaware of the fate that almost befall them mere moments before

The Frey knights and levies arrived a few minutes later. As did Hoster Tully and his Riverland bannermen. The two sides began to exchange together.

A portly man in plate and leather with wrinkled skin and easily in his early seventies brought his destrier to the front and bowed his head. "Lord Tully." The man said bluntly.

Hoster Tully narrowed his eyes. "You're late, Lord Frey."

* * *

The battle has ended finally, the royal army in full retreat while Tully, Stark, Arryn and Baratheon men retreat back to camp. The camp was busy as men repaired their armours, rested or simply enjoyed each other's company.

Robert has been injured gravely in his duel with Rhaegar and was resting in his war tent with Ned and Hoster by his side.

Resting on the cart of the wagon was Talion Blackfang mask and hood lowered, cloth in hand and arrow in the other. He began to clean the ebony arrows. Though Ned Stark and Hoster Tully were busy, they had offered a reward for the young man who had helped them immensely. Talion simply just asked them to help collect all the arrows. It was an odd request indeed but to Talion ebony was a rare resource, ebony arrows were legendarily sharp and tough. Recovering them was all he needed.

Talion inspected the arrow, satisfied with its cleanliness, he moved onto the next. He nodded a greeting to a handful of knights who passed him and waved. In just under a few hours he had gained quite a reputation on the battlefield, how much though he was ignorant of.

A handful of men arrived at his wagon. He recognized Rodrik Forrester, his men-at-arms and a handful of what appeared to be other noblemen approach him.

"How goes it Talion?" Rodrik greeted with a friendly tone.

"Well, I suppose. How's your arm?" Talion inquired, Rodrik got slashed with a curved Sabre during the ensuing battle. His sword arm in fact, instead of retreating the man just switched hands and started hacking any poor Dornishmen stupid enough to charge him.

"It's better." He said, wiggling his arm back and forth to show the man. He then gestured to the other 3 men and women at his side who were watching the exchange curiously. Noticing their stares, "These are friends of mine and fellow men of the North."

"Friends, this is Talion Blackfang, the injured man they found by the Green Fork."

He then gestured to the man on his right. A large but muscular man in his late thirties with swarthy black hair and a full beard. He wore plate mail and carried a flat-topped great helm in his right hand and grasping what seemed to be a blackened longsword strapped to his waist. Decorated on his chest was a sigil of a black bear on a field of green. "This is Jorah Mormont of Bear Island." The stoic man said nothing but nodded a greeting; Talion nodded one back.

He gestured to the right of the man, a young woman a year younger than Talion. She wore light green leather armour which hid her lanky but muscular frame. She carried a morningstar strapped to her waist. "This is Jorah's cousin, Dacey Mormont."

A small smile formed at the corner of her lips. "Pleasure to meet you."

Talion stared at her curiously. There was nothing particularly eye-catching about her. While she was beautiful he was paying more attention to her profession. From the few hours he was awake and the history lesson, he gathered women fighting was not a very common thing.

Noticing his stares, her brow furrowed in concern. "Is there something on my face?" She asked annoyed.

Noticing the tension, Rodrik tried to defuse it a bit. "Yes, I'm not sure how familiar you're with the North, but you'll find quite a few houses with daughters that can fight. She may not look it, but the morningstar in her hand is formidable. More man than a woman." She narrowed her eyes at him and punched him in the shoulder. "See?" He said with a chuckle.

Talion smiled. "I'm glad." Causing the others to turn back to the man. "You remind me of someone I cared for a lot. She was like you."

"Oh?" She folded her arms under her breast and looked Talion dead in the eyes. "How so?"

Talion glanced at the Ebony arrows and smiled, tempering the memories of when he first met her after saving the new Companion Ria from being crushed by a giant's foot. "She was tall like you, beautiful girl. She had red hair like fire, green eyes that always displayed a hint of mischief. And one of the best archers I ever knew. Also one of the kindest people." He smiled sadly.

Dacy's smile grew wider. "I'm honoured to be compared to her then. You must be very close. Where is she now?"

Talion sighed, closing his eyes. Her pleading voice echoed in his mind. ' _Talion! Wake up! TALION!... open your eyes please.'_

"I suspect far away, I didn't exactly leave her with good news. She probably thinks I'm dead."

Dacy glanced back at Rodrik whose face was as blank as parchment. "I'm sorry to hear that. What was her name?"

"Aela. Her name was Aela."

Dacey smiled again but said nothing. Rodrik pointed to the man on her right. A man with long red hair and a full beard. "This is Ethan Glover and Ser Mark Ryswell." Both men nodded a greeting.

"Nice to meet you Ser," Mark said.

"You as well, but you can just call me Talion. I'm no knight."

Mark turned to look at Rodrik who shrugged, "told you so." He said.

"But the stories?" Ethan asked, confused.

"Stories?" Talion stopped cleaning his arrows and turned to the man.

"You've garnered quite a reputation on the battlefield. Broke the right flank and helped us to push through the Dornish forces. Only a man of knighthood could achieve such a feat"

"Ser Corbray did that I believe," Talion said with annoyance. The man had rubbed it in his face when he saw him on the cart. Displaying his new Valyrian steel sword Lady Forlorn, he made sure to rub it in Talion's face as he slew the Dornish prince. Talion could care less about some fancy prince being killed. He simply congratulated the man and went on cleaning his arrows, much to Lyn's annoyance.

Rodrik scoffed, "As if, he may have killed the Prince, but I didn't see him charge in and cut down dozens and dozens of the best-trained men in Westeros. You should feel honoured, you fought bravely."

Talion simply looked at him and said nothing, going back to his arrows. "Why did you do it then?" Dacey asked staring at the man. "Every man would be boasting about his feats on the battlefield. They're calling Robert Baratheon the Demon of the Trident." She said pausing before placing a hand on the wagon and looking him in the eye. "You've earned yourself a title as well. The mysterious black warrior. The Black Dragon, they are calling you. Able to breathe fire." She said with a small chuckle at the last part.

"Titles mean nothing. I didn't do it for glory." The man dropped the clean arrow on a pile and grabbed the next bloodied one.

"Then why did you?" She asked again.

Turning, he glanced at the men and women who were staring at him. "All my life, I've wanted to do good. Help others, live a life of honour." His eyes hardened as he continued. "When a man who lost his family, a sister taken by the tyranny of an evil man I did what any would. What I should have done for my own family. Saved them."

Talion lowers his head in shame. Staring at the bracelet of Sam. He hated being here, being away from his family. Plucked and dropped in the middle of nowhere, a plaything of the Gods. Any man would be honoured, thrilled even, to be able to actually know divine beings on a personal level. Talion learned long ago nothing was what it seemed when it came to them.

He felt a soft hand on his leg. It was Dacey, she smiled at him. "Then you have done right by them. I can't say about the rest of these men, but I would be honoured to fight beside someone as noble as you. You are a strange man indeed, Talion Blackfang."

"I'm the simplest man you'll ever meet." He said with a sarcastic tone. Causing the others to laugh.

Just then what appeared to be a Forrester knight came running around one of the tents. His hands and uniform stained with blood. The man had a concerned and pained expression on his face. He bolted towards them and stopped abruptly, almost skidding on the ground. He lowered his head and bowed before he turned to Rodrik. "My lord, you need to come quickly. It's your grandfather, Lord Thorren."

Rodrik noticed his urgent tone and nodded. He turned to the rest of his companions and waved them a farewell. Before he followed his bannerman.

They chatted away for a few minutes, mostly Talion asking them about the North, what it was like, what their houses were like.

Around the corner came the sounds of dozens of boots hitting the grass. Turning their heads they saw coming their way was Lord Jon Arryn and his Vale Knights, including one Ser Lyn Corbray, his new Valyrian steel sword strapped to his waist proudly.

They lowered their heads in respect and bowed. "Lord Arryn" they greeted.

The man nodded a greeting back and turned his attention to Talion who was cleaning his arrows away. "How are you doing Talion?"

"Well m' lord, thank you."

"I hope we got all your arrows. It was hard finding all of them on the battlefield." He said with a strange chuckle. Any man, when offered with a reward, would have listed anything, a large sack of gold, personal favour with the Arryn house, knighthood or even if they were ambitious enough, lordship. This man just simply asked for his arrows back.

"You did Lord Arryn thank you."

"You did much better than I expected you would. Charged in alone against innumerable Dornish and Targaryen men, Unscathed. Some would call you inhumanly brave or stupid."

"Did what I could, nothing more."

 _'Does he hate glory or something? This man is so strange.'_ Jon thought. "Indeed. But still, you did Lord Robert Baratheon and Ned Stark a great service, Which is why," Jon unsheathed his sword and approached Talion. "If you'd please come here." Talion hesitated, eyeing the man with curiosity. He turned to Rodrik's friends who were all eying him, smiles in the corner of their lips.

Talion scooted off the wagon and stood up, his massive frame towering over all of them. "Kneel and lower your head," Jon ordered, causing a handful of whispers to go out through the crown of Arryn Knights.

Talion looked at him before he got down on one knee, even then he still was taller than Jon Arryn. Talion lowered his head and waited curiously. Dacy simply chuckled as she watched what came next.

He lowered his sword gently on Talion's shoulder before he spoke. "I, Lord Jon Arryn, Lord of the Eyrie and Warden of the East, dub thee Ser Talion, all present shall recognize your status as a knight for your unwavering conviction and skill in battle in the face of nightmarish odds. Rise, Ser Talion Blackfang."

Talion's eyes widened as he tilted his head up. "Are you sure Lord Arryn?"

"Yes, are you sure my lord Arryn," Corbray spoke. There was certainly a hint of jealousy, a landless, nobless man being knighted by a man of a Great House was the best gift any man on the field of battle could ask for. It was a rare honour. "He's a foreigner. He could be a Targaryen spy-"

Jon turned to look at him with a cold gaze shutting the man up before turning back to Talion with a stern gaze. "Are you refusing a noble lord's offer?" Finishing that last word with a mirthy tone, a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Of course Ser Talion. None are more deserving. Now rise,"

Talion did as he was told and rose up. "All knights usually have a title they go by. I'm not sure of what to call you."

"The lads are calling him the Black Dragon, Lord Arryn," Dacey said as she winked at Talion. Causing the man to groan mentally.

Jon chuckled softly, "an ironic title, considering. Would this suffice? Or would you like the title that appears in those strange books you came with."

"Books?" Talion questioned, then he remembered. "Ah yes, tales of my homeland."

Jon nodded, "indeed, strange books if I must say, very fascinating. Couldn't read a word of it. Only see the pictures which caused more confusion than an explanation but one word kept appearing, especially next to a picture I'll never forget." He said, shaking his head. The sheer sight was pure lunacy.

"If I may ask, my lord," Mark said with a pause. He had always had a love of books and heroes of mythical renown. "What were the books?"

"Judging by the pictures. It appeared to be stories of some kind, but none I have ever heard about. A single word I kept seeing."

Talion shook his head and chuckled under his breath. It seemed no matter where he was, the title followed him everywhere. "Dovahkiin" Talion said, everyone turned to him.

"Dovahkiin," Mark muttered in repetition.

"I wasn't sure what the word was, but yes. What does it mean? I saw it many times next to the picture."

"What picture, m' lord?" An Arryn knight asked.

"I don't even know how to describe it. But it was a man in strange barbaric looking armour, a curled horn on each side, jumping off what appeared to be a cliff and fighting a black dragon in single combat." He said it out loud as if it wouldn't sound any stranger coming from his own lips.

A few murmurs went around the crowd. a handful of Arryn knights laughed in the back. "A man fighting a dragon? It's sheer stupidity. No man could ever face a dragon in combat and win."

"A man fighting a dragon? As if, everyone knows not even Aegon Targaryen could kill a dragon by himself without his own dragon."

Memories filled Talion, from his first-ever fight at the tower, to killing Alduin the World-Eater in Sovngarde, to fighting Miraak's serpent dragon in Apocrypha. The good and the bad memories, it seemed almost a lifetime ago. A light nudge from Dacey made him realize they were all still waiting for an answer. It felt weird for Talion to talk about himself in the third person. Nevertheless, he began to explain. "Dovahkiin, or in the more common term the Dragonborn, was a mythical hero sent down by the Gods during times of great calamity. Wielding the power of the Thu'um, or the Voice of the Dragons, he could slay and kill any dragon and devour its soul. I.." He stopped himself, "it was considered a great honour to be bestowed the title."

The camp was silent before laughter erupted among the Knights. "Devouring dragon souls? Dumbest thing I've ever heard." An Arryn knight shouted.

"Place sounds crazier than the Wall." another man shouted.

"What's next? He can breathe fire like one too?" Another knight said laughing.

Talion simply stood in silence. His eyes not faltering once. Jorah, as well as his cousin both, eyed the man curiously. While everyone was focused on the tale. Dacey spotted the slip-up. _'I… what was that about? He couldn't mean himself, these were tales, children's stories.'_ Listening to the man speak, there was no laughter in his tone, no sarcasm, only sadness and guilt. Emotions she'd not expect from someone telling a children's story.

Jon scratches his head. The story sounded good enough. A legendary hero vanquishing evil and dragons. Wielding great power. The idea of dragons was not a silly notion. He'd seen the dragon skulls decorating the king's hall at Kings Landing. But a man who could devour dragon souls, killing them? The pictures looked real enough but Jon knew they were just stories. Jon raised his hand causing them to stop laughing. "I don't know about devouring souls and dragons. But I saw what I saw. Westeros is lucky to have you, Ser Dragonborn." He said with a smile and sheathed his sword.

Talion nodded thanking the man. "What's next?"

"Well," Jon said with a pause. "Robert Baratheon has slain the Dragon Prince, it does not, however, end here. King Aerys' reign cannot persist a day more. Lord Robert has announced his claim on the Iron Throne. He was injured heavily during the battle and will remain here with one of the captured Kingsguard, Barristan Selmy. He's tasked Lord Stark and me to siege King's Landing before Tywin Lannister who no doubt will have heard about this, sends his army there first.

Folding his arms he paused before he spoke, already knowing the answer he would receive. "It was a lot to ask you the first time, but with Robert indisposed, we'll need someone strong ther-"

"I'm in," Talion said without room for argument.

Jon stopped, most lords would consider it rude to be interrupted by the man they had just knighted. Jon simply grinned from ear to ear. "Very well, we leave for King's Landing."

* * *

 **And Done, while this redone chapter wasn't as badass and action-packed as the first write, I hope it sufficed long enough until the next chapter arrives and Talion and friends storm King's Landing. I promise it'll be worth the wait. In The meantime I hope yall like the little snippet battle scene between Robert and Rhaegar, I've always wanted to see the battle either on TV or read it in its full essence, Robert with his spiked iron warhammer, great antlered steel helm is something truly badass. This is somewhat how I envisioned it went, I hope yall enjoyed it.**

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don't forget if you haven't already, vote for your top two house mottos:

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-Achilles


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